


cosmic children (brief hiatus)

by aesthiqe



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auras, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo has powers, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, I'm Sorry Tolkien, M/M, Magic, Other, Slow Burn, Stars, Thorin Broods, Wizards are cooler, brief hiatus, but they don't know that yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthiqe/pseuds/aesthiqe
Summary: Bilbo always wondered if there were others like him. For as long as he can remember, he's been told to hide the constellations in his skin, aware of the danger and chaos they might bring.And so he never met another like himself; he never truly understood what the stars in his skin meant, their significance. And yet, he always wondered, were there any others who shared his affliction? Did others hold the universe in their skin?The answer came one humid evening in the form of a wizard and a motley crew of Dwarrow. Oh, and a rune on his newly painted door.**! brief hiatus until further notice !**
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 117
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! so this is a drabble idea i came up with and want to turn into a story (based on canon timeline). bilbo has stars in his skin and he needs to deal with that, maybe with the help of a team of dwarven idiots. eventual bagginshield but *very* slow burn shit. i hope you enjoy and feel free to leave any comments/constructive criticism/etc. etc. enjoy !

His skin is filled with constellations. Perseus on one thigh, the Big Dipper on the other. Inconsistent in their pattern, but sisters to their counterparts in the heavens, his individual stars line up beautifully on his body. They are his alone; no one else is permitted to view the galaxies entrapped within his peach coloured visage. Lest the powers within fall prey to dominance so far unknown, so far unrecognisable, trapped as they are within their small confines.

But their residence in his skin has not gone unnoticed. Try as he might to conceal them, their light shines through in the subtlest of ways – Arcturus blinking in his eyes, Altair gleaming on his wrist - demanding attention from parties privier to the myth of cosmic children. He has met a few who sought to carve the night sky from his limbs. “Too rare to sit unused,” they whispered under the guise of buying him a drink. “Too beautiful to hide in such a blank canvas,” they spoke as they tightened his restraints. Their words hurt him then, scared him then; now, he only pities them for their ignorance.

He often wonders if the skies miss their siblings. To the marks in his skin, the glowing beauties in the sky seem to be dulled by the distribution of their power within his skin. Thoughts consumed by, _Am I the only one?_ Blessings such as this are surely rarer than emeralds, unheard of even amongst the richest individuals, the rarest of smiles. Do galaxies reside in others?

Bilbo finds his answer in the most peculiar of ways; through a wizard and a motley crew of dwarrow one summer night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo only wanted to enjoy his pipe.

The morning had begun like any other; wake up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, second breakfast, garden a while, elevensies, then reading. Maybe nap a while, then start lunch. Never a large affair, just enough to hold him over until tea. Today, just three sandwiches and some coffee: some say the drink stunts the growth, but he never bothered to believe such things. He never was one to believe in myths or fairytales.

Correction: He _wasn’t_.

But that’s a story for later.

For now, Bilbo enjoys his pipe in his front garden, watching the Tooks and Brandybucks and Sackville-Baggins trample down the dirt road into the town below. Today was a celebration, some distant cousin’s birthday, as far as Bilbo knew; there were far too many of those these days. Not distant cousin’s birthdays, no, though one could argue that point fairly well too - celebrations in general. Hobbits were an excitable people, ready to whip out all the fixings for a party as soon as someone said “go.” Though, Bilbo thinks, the lives of Hobbits could be somewhat monotonous. Days filled with food, plowing fields, more food, and stifling conversation. A little fun never hurt anyone, he supposes, much as he wishes he could enjoy an evening without the loud shouts of his neighbours travelling through his window, far later than any _respectable_ Hobbit should be up.

As if Bilbo could be held as the gold standard of what it means to be a decent gentlehobbit. Yavanna help him, she had hardly made him so. 

There was also the matter of the pesky glowing dots in his skin. Beautiful as the stars are, his people had a tendency to get a little too warm with too much drink and good food. To see a Hobbit stripping down to the lowest possible level of propriety was not at all uncommon, despite his neighbours’ frequent rants on _decorum_ and old-fashioned _good manners,_ and really Bilbo simply preferred to avoid the risk altogether. No one need see what hides beneath his heavy layers of shirts and his waistcoat, the glow dampened by heavy layers of cloth.

So, all too often on days like these, Bilbo found himself sequestered to his bench, only a pipe and some Old Toby for company. _Really, it could be worse,_ he tells himself as he blows another perfect circle into the humid air, feeling his clothes stick to him with every shift of his arm. He remembers the cold feeling of iron shackles with a shudder as he stares vacantly into the cloudy sky above. _It could be much worse._

“Ahem,” a gruff voice shakes Bilbo from his memories back into the present. He had only just noticed the low position of the sun above him. He'd missed tea. “I was told this is the home of one Bilbo Baggins?”

Bilbo nodded, a little ruffled by the appearance of this new visitor. Big People didn’t come often to his neck of the woods, let alone any this strange looking. But, definitely not one to judge, Bilbo tried hard not to stare too long at the grey wispy beard hanging off of this Big Person’s pointy chin, or the knobby staff he leant on, radiating _something_ Bilbo just knew he should recognise and yet, which strayed just outside of his understanding. He shook these feelings off. Bilbo was a Baggins, and while he often grew tired of having to behave with perfect social conduct, he would not treat a stranger the same way he'd treat Lobelia or Otho _,_ no matter how odd. No matter how unnerving.

“I am him, yes. Is there anything I can help you with, Mister...?” Bilbo asked, smiling kindly, warily, at the man towering above his small bench.

“You may call me Gandalf, dear boy. Though, I must confess, I am surprised that you do not already know my name,” the man spoke kindly, yet with an air of something Bilbo could not place. It was _just_ out of his reach. “There are very few creatures like you, Mister Baggins, yet those few that I have met have had a sense of my true nature. Am I wrong in assuming that you are different in this regard?”

For one staggering moment, all he felt was a chilling fear. Bilbo froze. _Creatures like him._ He knew. Whoever this man was, he knew of Bilbo’s true nature. He knew of the markings littering his skin, of their power, of their beauty. He knew of the children of the cosmos. How did he know? What was he planning? Bilbo could hardly think, let alone answer the man.

And yet, there was no hint of anything evil in those pale blue eyes. As hard as Bilbo bore into the air surrounding the man, he felt no ill intent. He came with no ill will towards Bilbo, this much the Hobbit knew. He felt the aura surrounding the man, and as far as he could tell, there was nothing remotely malignant about it.

And so he felt harder. With the tendrils of power his stars gave him, they glowed brighter beneath his clothes as Bilbo closed his eyes and extended his very essence around the man’s body, into his soul. What he saw there amazed him.

Giant ropes of magical energy, larger and more powerful than any Bilbo had ever felt, seen, or even heard of. He’d seen traces of it in some kids a village away, in the Big People that sometimes visited Hobbiton. But never like this. Never twining around their owner in such a consuming, all-present way. There were few, Bilbo knew, who had the capacity to control magic like that, with so much command over their powers. Not one rope was straying from their place around the man's skin.

When he opened his eyes, awe struck and glassy, he was met with a knowing grin. “Ah, so you are not so different from your kin. I had wondered if I had been mistaken.”

“You’re a wizard,” Bilbo gaped, dropping his pipe on the grass and wondering how his life had come to this point. “There is a wizard, with a bloody _staff,_ ” he muttered quietly, shaking his head, “on my front lawn. Why is there a wizard on my lawn?”

Gandalf laughed, not unkindly, as he waited for Bilbo to adjust to this new information. “Yes, Master Baggins. I am indeed that which you say,” he shifted, leaning more heavily on his wooden staff. “As for why I am here, I was hoping I would be able to relay that information inside? Over a cup of warm tea, perhaps? I do so love the Shire's earl grey.”

Bilbo shook himself out of his stupor, remembering his manners, though a little absentmindedly. “Of course, Mister Gandalf. Absolutely.” He stood, retrieving his pipe from the grass and making to step inside. “Please do come in.” 

  
He barely heard the wizard's mutter of "Just Gandalf will do, dear boy," as he moved inside. _Inviting a wizard in for tea,_ he thought to himself, as Gandalf’s heavy steps fell in behind him. _What would dear ol’ Da say now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bilbo is about to hear of the Adventure.. what are his thoughts?! will he say yes? no? 
> 
> sooo wizards (gandalf) are way cooler to bilbo here and also bilbo can feel peoples auras, sense magic, etc. they meet the merry company next chapter ! woo !
> 
> please feel free to leave any thoughts/feelings/etc. in the comments ! constructive criticism always welcome !
> 
> thank you and i will see you again next update :DD


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo liked the dwarves well enough. They were kind, and their auras were beautiful, though all so different from one another. He thought he'd rather enjoy this adventure, dangerous as it may be.
> 
> Then he met Thorin.

Bilbo sat at his kitchen table, thinking on the odd, yet enlightening conversation he’d shared with Gandalf over a late meal earlier in the day. It wasn’t often he had wizards over for company, and it was decidedly  _ less  _ often that said wizards came with a tale of grand adventure and telling, just maybe, of a need for a hobbit burglar. For one Bilbo Baggins.

_ If I was my father I’d have died on the spot,  _ Bilbo thinks. It was a good job he’d always been more of his mother’s son. Belladonna Took, brave as she was, would have been out the door searching for those dwarves the moment Gandalf mentioned the word adventure.

Maybe he’d always been a healthy mix of the two.

Bilbo was shocked back into the present by the ding of his kitchen timer, telling him the bread rolls he’d been baking were done. He sighed and took them out of the oven, laying them next to the rest of the feast he’d prepared for his dwarven company. He did not claim to know the appetites of dwarves, but if they were anything like that of hobbits, he’d have to be well prepared. It was bad enough that Gandalf only gave him a few hours warning, and now the man was lounging in his front room, snoozing and generally being a lazy sod.  _ Wizards and their powers,  _ Bilbo thought with a wry smile.

As he drizzled honey on the rolls, a loud knock sounded on his front door. Bilbo hurried to answer, but not before rolling his sleeves down to his fingertips (he was glad he’d worn such a large waistcoat today, even if the fabric came close to drowning him) and ensuring his pants were rolled down to his ankles. He’d even worn a neck scarf, so that his stars would go unnoticed by his guests. No matter how sure Gandalf had been of this company, Bilbo knew all too well what misplaced trust could do to someone like him. So, he decided, better safe than sorry.

He opened the door with a smile, greeting the first of many that would come through his door that night. As he gazed upon the brawny, bald-headed dwarf he remembered the descriptions of the dwarves he’d received from Gandalf earlier.

“Ah, hello! You must be Master Dwalin. A pleasure to meet you, I do hope you’re hungry? I wasn’t sure how much to make, so there is quite a feast in the kitchen, should you feel a bit peckish. Oh! I’ve almost forgotten. Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” Bilbo spoke quickly and finished with a small bow, thinking it the polite thing to do.

Dwalin did not seem to know what to do with the hobbit in front of him. The others he’d passed were cold, unwelcoming sort of folk and he confessed he’d been expecting the same treatment from his host for the evening, regardless of Gandalf’s assurances on the burglar. 

“Uhm, yes, that is I. At your service,” Dwalin bowed in response, though still somewhat shocked at the smaller being’s behavior. “I would appreciate some food, aye. It’s been a long journey.”

Bilbo nodded and gestured towards the kitchen, “Yes, I imagine so. Gandalf informed me of the intent of your company and your travels. I am glad to give you a respite from them, however brief.” He could not imagine the struggles they must have faced. Though he had dealt with many hardships himself, none could deny, Bilbo had never come to lose his home. He doubted he’d know what to do if Bag End was ripped from him, by a dragon or anything else. Though, Bilbo thought privately _,_ it’d be much more likely that his scheming relatives would lay claim to his home before any dragon would.

So he led Dwalin - aura tired and muted, though still with an air of strength and loyalty to something Bilbo did not know - who was now smiling in his own, subdued way, to the kitchen and waited for the rest of the company to arrive. Balin came next, and Bilbo found himself drawn to the aura of the man; it shone with knowledge of things Bilbo could not hope to grasp, and with a gentle kindness not present in his companion’s aura. Bilbo knew he’d get along well with the man in days to come.

Fili and Kili followed, and Bilbo found himself momentarily stunned by their combined auras as they smiled brightly, giving quick greetings and all but running to the kitchen, tempted by the smell of warm food and drink. They were bright alone, but together they shone with something golden, something made of sunlight. Bilbo knew these two could not be apart the moment he set eyes on them. Their souls were made for eachother, he was sure.

And, all at once, the rest of the company - excluding one broody leader - came soon after. They tumbled through his door with laughs and overlapping greetings, and Bilbo smiled quietly to himself when he saw the way their auras fit with each other. As he looked upon the group, he observed how bright mixed with dull, loud with quiet, warm with cold. He’d gone his whole life seeing people and their nature, and yet he had never seen any that meshed as well as the group in front of him. He was somewhat disappointed to see the lack of magic in any of them, though he supposed he could have expected little else. It was rare enough, and he’d made do with only himself and his powers for long enough. As he introduced himself and led the rest to the kitchen, he could only hope he’d find a place to fit in while on their adventure, despite the differences between himself and the company.

Eventually, most of the dwarves had their fill and were speaking amicably with Bilbo and Gandalf, awoken from his slumber by the calamity of so many dwarves in Bag End. As they sat around the (now near empty: Bilbo marvelled at their appetites) kitchen table, three sharp knocks sounded on his door and effectively silenced the conversation. Bilbo looked at his guests and seeing their faces, understanding filled him.  _ This must be their leader,  _ he thought to himself. He rose to answer the door and what he saw there shocked him beyond anything he had seen in the other dwarves.

The dwarf standing before Bilbo looked similar enough physically to the rest of the lot, but there was something different there. Something with a decidedly regal air, demanding respect, despite the shabby clothes and worn boots this stranger wore. He did not seem a king at first glance, but look two or three more times and the fact was made obvious by his stance, his grim demeanor, his heavy brow. Exiled or not, Thorin Oakenshield, standing firm on Bilbo’s porch, was a king in all rights and he knew it. He  _ radiated  _ it.

But this was not what made Bilbo freeze solid and gape, wide-eyed, when he saw the dwarf on his porch.

It was the stars clearly glowing on his wrists, on his neck, on his exposed chest; everywhere Bilbo looked, there were constellations on the man’s skin. They shined with a ferocity Bilbo had never seen before, nowhere except on his own skin. He never expected to see another like him, and yet. Here he was, about to go on a life or death adventure with someone who  _ was  _ just like him. Who had Sirius winking out of his left eye.

But, as the dwarf raised a bushy eyebrow and glared slightly at what would soon be the company’s burglar, Bilbo realised something. For all the stars on Thorin’s body, for all the light glow they cast around the dwarf and onto Bilbo: the dwarf had no magic in his aura.  _ He had no aura _ . The air surrounding him was silent, dark, quiet with something Bilbo could not grasp. Unlike his companions, Thorin Oakenshield’s aura was dormant. Bilbo had never seen such a thing.

For all that the dwarf in front of Bilbo  _ seemed  _ the same, he was not. He could not be more different than the small burglar. 

As Thorin said his name roughly, “Master Baggins, I assume you already know who I am. If you would stop gaping and  _ let me through,  _ I have somewhat of an important matter to deal with,” and shoved past the small hobbit, Bilbo was shaken into reality and their differences were solidified.

Bilbo stepped inside and shut his round door with a quiet gasp. Walking to listen to the dwarves greet their old friend and fallen king, he knew one thing. He liked the rest of the group well enough; in fact, he even saw himself becoming fast friends with many of them. But despite the stars on the leader of the company, despite this apparent similarity with Bilbo ( _ though Bilbo would  _ never  _ confess to the dwarf of this sameness between them _ ), Bilbo knew this. He would  _ never  _ allow himself to get close to Thorin Oakenshield. He had no aura, or a dormant one, and besides that he was a right  _ prick _ . Bilbo would go on this adventure. He would still help the dwarves reclaim their home.

But he would do so without acknowledging the stars on the fallen dwarf’s skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo this is becoming an enemies to lovers type trope. bilbo will eventually like thorin ? maybe ? who knows !
> 
> why does thorin have stars but no powers ? is there multiple types of cosmic kiddos ?? who knows. bilbo will interrogate gandalf about it don't u worry.
> 
> anyway more updates to come; writing this in the middle of all this miss rona chaos is a really good distraction from reality ! i hope you are enjoying it as much as i am :D
> 
> as always feel free to leave comments, kudos, etc. let me know what u think !


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo needs to talk to Gandalf, but the slippery old wizard's disappeared and no one seems to know where.
> 
> Also, Bilbo has had near enough of the line of Durin.

The morning sun beat down on Bilbo’s back as he rode with the company early the next morning. He was already in a sour mood as Thorin would not allow anyone to indulge in more than a scone and some tea before they set out that day, sun barely above the horizon.

He was hungry, yes, but Bilbo rather resigned himself to that fact as he set in for the adventure, and he resolutely told himself not to voice a single complaint. He was aware of how he looked to the dwarves ( _ echoes of “more like a grocer than a burglar” filled his mind from the night before _ ) and while he was not necessarily a hobbit suited to the road, he was no spring flower. He would not give them a reason to doubt his commitment to their cause. No matter how uncomfortable the pangs in his stomach were, or the uncomfortable position of his small body on the pony.

Yes, Bilbo thought, he would not voice his complaints to the group. The perceptive dwarf riding alongside the hobbit seemed to notice his discomfort anyway.

“You alrigh’ there, Master Hobbit?” Bofur asked with a small smile, amused at Bilbo’s frown.

“Quite, Master Bofur. And just Bilbo will do! Only I am not so used to riding a pony. Hobbits rather prefer to walk, you see,” Bilbo stated, adjusting himself slightly on the saddle. “I am sure I’ll get the hang of it. I shall try not to complain too vocally in the meantime.” Bilbo knew Bofur was not an unkind dwarf, and yet he still would not whine about his discomfort. Not all the dwarves were as good-natured as Bofur, and Bilbo was sure the dwarf would have no sympathy for a gentlehobbit like himself anyway. Yet, the air around Bofur was shining with kindness as he nodded understandingly at the hobbit. 

“Aye, I understand completely, Bilbo. Riding for so long isn’t comfortable for any of us, let alone a laddie as small as yourself,” Bofur smiled at the hobbit’s slight bristle. “It will get easier, don’t you worry! And if you be just Bilbo, then I’ll be just Bofur,” he said with a grin.

Bilbo smiled at the dwarf, grateful that at least one of them was showing genuine interest and kindness to their new companion. He expected he’d find the same from the rest, in due time - their auras suggested no dislike of the burglar, if not a fair amount of uncertainty - but for now he was happy for at least one friend.

Bilbo continued to converse with Bofur as the caravan rode onwards, and it was only a few hours into their ride that the sunny day morphed into a rainy downpour. Bilbo regrets wishing for cooler weather.

Surprisingly, the mood of the company does not suffer, however bad the weather may be. The rain may be chilling, but Bilbo, the rest of the dwarves - excluding the broody leader at the head of the group, who Bilbo resolutely ignores - and Gandalf continue to chat in their merry way, and just as Bilbo is becoming invested in his conversation with Bofur (“ _ And  _ how  _ did you say you learned to carve again Bofur? This really is a beautiful piece!” _ ), he’s halted by the sound of a gruff voice at the front of the group as Thorin turns to face him.

He was drenched in rain and did not seem to be in as good of a mood as the rest of the company. “Master Burglar, it would be greatly appreciated if you could stop riding so slowly in order to discuss meaningless trivialities with my companion. We do have a quest to complete, as I’m sure you’re well aware,” Thorin grunted at the hobbit. And  _ really,  _ Bilbo had had quite enough of the dwarf, even if it hadn’t been a full day since he’d joined the quest.

He glanced at Bofur quickly, and the older dwarf merely shrugged at him, as if to say, “ _ Eh, what can you do. _ ”

Bilbo decides that there is definitely something he could do, as he looked towards Thorin with just as strong of a glare as the dwarf had directed towards him just moments ago. The lack of  _ anything  _ around the leader was just as disconcerting as the first time Bilbo saw him.

Ignoring the stars on Thorin and setting his gaze directly on his face, Bilbo steeled himself. “Well,” he started, silently pleased at the surprised look on the arrogant dwarf’s face, “ _ Maybe,  _ if our leader spent less time berating his company and more time facing forwards, we’d be able to complete our adventure with even more haste.” His glare remained steady at Thorin’s dumbfounded then angry expression. “Just a thought.” He finished with a shrug.

Thorin meets his eyes with a glare of his own and “ _ Hmphs _ ,” moving forward and continuing the trek through the rainy weather. Bilbo frowns at their leader for good measure. Bofur nudges Bilbo slightly and grins, muttering a short “ _ Well done”  _ under his breath, soon followed by similar praises from Fili and Kili. The auras surrounding him have taken up a somewhat amused tone, though more subdued in some than others. Bilbo is surprised to see Dwalin suppressing a grin as he glances back at the burglar, though not really to see Gandalf doing the same.

Forgetting his ire at their leader for the moment and redirecting it to the wizard, Bilbo was determined to have a talk with Gandalf as soon as possible.

~~~

The sun had set long ago and Thorin, the dwarven ensemble, Bilbo and Gandalf had only just stopped to camp for the night - or, more accurately, for the early morning.

Bilbo had planned to steal their wizard away and interrogate him as soon as they had set up camp, but as he removed his sleeping roll from Myrtle and looked around, he realized frustratedly that Gandalf had gone off while no one was looking. Slippery bastard. Bilbo doubted he’d see the wizard until they set off in the morning. He didn’t particularly want to discuss his condition and the fact that he shared it with the stubborn dwarven leader in front of an audience.

So, as he fed Myrtle an apple and quietly praised her for her efforts in lugging him around all day, he planned to confront the wizard as soon as an opportunity presented itself, as soon as they had a moment away from prying dwarven ears.

He did not know why Gandalf hadn’t mentioned Thorin’s stars, or why he had avoided the hobbit since the morning they left Bilbo’s smial. Bilbo comforted himself with one fact. Wizards, scheming and powerful as they were, were not generally cruel creatures. Gandalf was no exception. If he hid the similarity between the dwarf and hobbit, he must have had a good reason to do so. Maybe, Gandalf was not even aware of the constellations on Thorin’s skin! 

( _ Even Bilbo knew this was a long shot. _ )

Later on, after ponies had eaten and Bilbo and the dwarves were settling down to do the same, there was still an obvious lack of the wizard around camp. Bilbo didn’t know where he’d gone, and the rest of the company seemed to be clueless as well. Rather than focus on Gandalf’s absence, Bilbo decided he’d enjoy his dinner and get to know the other dwarves a little better. 

He was saved from trying to figure out who’d be most receptive to his company when the brothers, Fili and Kili, plopped their bowls and their bodies on either side of him. 

“We’ve hardly had a chance to speak to you at all today, Mister Boggins!” Kili spoke, sharing a grin with his blond haired companion. “A travesty, truly,” he continued. Bilbo didn’t know whether to feel encouraged by or wary of the expressions on the boys’ faces. 

“Indeed! Well I am glad our  _ noble  _ leader has finally allowed us a break from the road, then.” His sarcasm on the was not unnoticed, and the boys laughed quietly at the hobbit’s obvious dislike of their uncle, though they knew not why it was there.

As the two young dwarves settled into conversation with Bilbo, a sudden howl pierced the night around them.

“Oh, that’ll be the wargs,” Fili said, his face grim but eyes alight with mischief.

“They like to come out on nights like these. One can’t say if their masters are with them, but those beasts are awful enough even without orcish riders.” Kili continued solemnly, in a tone much the same as his brother’s. “I once heard tell of a dwarf near the Blue Mountains who’d had his face ripped clean off with one swipe of a claw. Poor bastard who found ‘im couldn’t sleep for months afterwards, I heard. The body haunted him.” 

Bilbo shivered at their words and made to respond to Fili and Kili. When he turned to face them, the words died in his throat.

While the boys seemed solemn and grave in their tellings of the beastly wargs and their orc masters, a closer look revealed otherwise. Bilbo would be able to tell even without being able to see their auras - the gleam in their eyes was telling enough - but the air around the boys shone with it. Mischief, amusement all directed towards the small hobbit in front of them.

Bilbo, for the second time that day, thought that he has had quite enough of the antics of dwarves.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Balin move to stand, likely to scold the Durin brothers for teasing the new member of the company. Another figure stirred behind him, Bilbo unable to clearly define the silhouette. But before either dwarf could say anything, Bilbo stood with an acute frown on his normally gentle face. 

“I don’t know why you boys would think wargs and orcs are a laughing matter, or something to tease me of and watch me shudder, but I can guarantee you they are  _ not _ .” He spoke firmly, watching the boys’ aura fade into something ashamed and embarrassed, and even a little confused. What could a hobbit know of such things?

“I have not seen the beasts, but have lost many a friend to their sharp claws and strong bite,” he said, remembering his mother’s friends, who came around often with stories and gifts when he was a faunt and then who suddenly stopped coming. He remembered the tears that seemed a permanent fixture on Belladonna’s face, and Bungo’s cold gaze on his ale glass. He didn’t understand until much later, though when his mother finally broke and his father spit out the story, drunk on too much ale, part of him wished he’d never heard the tales of wargs descending on those friends’ bodies. To live in ignorance can sometimes be a gift, for young hobbits. “I would have you think of those deaths and all suffering caused by those beasts before you make a joke of them.”

Bilbo turned with a quiet “ _ Goodnight _ ” to the company, ready for the day to end and to meet Gandalf in the morning, intent on discovering why he’s keeping secrets from the hobbit. As he tucked in to bed, he missed the shocked faces and auras of the company. Fili and Kili were properly chastised, and both looked guiltily after the small hobbit as he tucked himself into his bedroll and turned away from the fire.

Thorin glanced at the small body curled up, perhaps a bit far from the fire, and wondered quietly if he may have been quite wrong in his judgement of the slight burglar after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gandalf's not really missing he just does wizard stuff every once in a while .
> 
> also bilbo won't take no shit from durin's line ! king or otherwise .
> 
> next chapter bilbo will FINALLY talk with gandalf/thorin maybe gets a sense of how important the hobbit is ... maybe
> 
> anyway !! i hope you enjoyed; thanks for the comments and kudos - feel free to leave your thoughts and ofc kudos !
> 
> next chapter coming soon !


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf had been keeping a secret from Bilbo, and the hobbit was determined to find out why.

Eager to confront Gandalf before the company set off for the day, Bilbo was already tending to his pony and preparing for the day of brutal travel ahead as the sun began to rise above the distant mountains. The rest of the company slumbered still, though the hobbit could see evidence of the beginnings of awareness in the leader - not that he was looking, thank you very much. 

Feeding his pony and packing his sleep roll, planning to get a start on breakfast before the dwarves fully awoke, he was stopped by the sight of a pointy grey hat emerging from the forest.

“Gandalf.” Bilbo muttered darkly, filled with intent.

Abandoning his task, though knowing Thorin would likely berate him for doing so when the sodding dwarf managed to emerge from the hold sleep held, Bilbo stomped towards the wizard with anger in his eyes and less than gentle words on the tip of his tongue. The wizard looks weary but accepting of his fate as the much smaller being drags him back into the forest.

“Gandalf, though I respect you immensely and will not interrogate you of your whereabouts last night, I must ask you now.” Bilbo glowered once they were far from prying dwarven ears. “ _ Why  _ did you feel that you should not mention the stars on Thorin Oakenshield’s skin?! I would have liked to know such a thing before I set off on an adventure with him and his company!” Bilbo left the fact of Thorin’s (nonexistent) aura out of his ire; as far as he knew, Gandalf could not see the auras of others, despite his great magic and many powers. As much as Bilbo was uncertain of the lack of aura surrounding their leader - and as much as he downright disliked him - he would not reveal this fact to another. And certainly not to a meddling wizard.

Not for the time being, at least.

The wizard looked pensive as he regarded the angry glare of the tiny hobbit in front of him. He could at least admit he deserved this berating, though the one giving it was… less than intimidating.

“Bilbo, I beg for a chance to explain before you wake the entire forest with your anger,” Gandalf started, ready to explain but knowing he’d have to do so quickly judging from the impatient face in front of him. “As uncommon as your condition seems to be among hobbits, the same cannot be said for dwarves.

“As long as the line of Durin has existed, so have its dwarves been riddled with stars. Dwarvish legends say that Durin himself was the first to bear the markings of the constellations above,” he continued his explanation with the air and tone that only a wizard could have when discussing such things and telling such stories. Bilbo was captivated, irritation at Gandalf fading somewhat as he listened intently to the wizard. “Thorin, admittedly, is the first such dwarf in many generations. But it can’t be said that his powers are uncommon amongst his line. This is why he does not hide the markings on his skin.”

Bilbo nodded slightly, though still had many questions for the wizard. “I see…” Bilbo said quietly, and then continued, as the words spilled from his lips, “But I don’t understand. Can he see the auras of others, as well? Has he not been persecuted for their light in his skin? I cannot count the number of men and other races who have tried to take my stars from me. Has he gone his whole life without someone attempting to steal that beauty?” Bilbo could not imagine living with his sleeves rolled up and shirt unbuttoned the way the dwarven leader does, glowing freckles on display for all to see. He would not last a day, surely. And the question of whether or not Thorin could see auras was one he needed answered.

The wizard looked at the hobbit with a grim understanding in his eyes and sighed. “Indeed, Thorin can see the auras of others, dear boy. He shares that talent with you, though it is not openly discussed. I doubt some members of his own company realize it. It is also true that some have tried to take his stars, yes,” he shifted slightly on his staff and continued, aware of Bilbo’s shocked expression. “But Thorin has never been quite the same as you, Bilbo. I am sure you understand I mean you no offense, but there are many who see a hobbit as an easy target. The same cannot be said of a dwarven king, whether or not he holds possession of his kingdom.” Gandalf knew of the suffering the hobbit had faced as a result of others’ envy of the universe on his skin, as much as he wished it were not so.

Bilbo likewise knew that, to other races, hobbits were weak, fragile creatures. One could take what they liked from the smaller beings and little could be done to stop them. Of course, the same would not be true of the brawn of dwarves, especially those with a band of friends so tightly knit like that of Thorin’s. Bilbo wondered privately what it would be like to display his secret so openly to all who crossed his path.

Bilbo felt a sudden envy of their leader, regardless of his missing aura.

But he brought himself out of his sorrow and back to the present, determined to question the wizard further. He directed his gaze to the man, more curious now than angry or irked.

“While I understand  _ why  _ Thorin has the same marks and powers as I do, and why he displays them so brazenly, you have failed to tell me, Gandalf, the reason you kept this hidden from me.” He steeled himself and asked the question bearing so heavily on his mind. “Why did you not _ tell  _ me? You know of my stars, you must have known I’d not have thought poorly or oddly of Master Oakenshield.”

Gandalf smiled and looked back at the hobbit with amusement as the tall man turned to move out of the forest. “Well, I suppose I thought it’d be interesting to see how things unfolded on their own,” he said with mirth in his tone, regarding Bilbo’s jaw drop with no small level of amusement. “Though, now that you have been made aware of the similarity between yourself and the dwarf, Mister Baggins, perhaps you can inform him of your shared galaxies? I imagine the Master Dwarf would not be averse to the idea of sharing such an important thing with another member of his company.”

He did not wait for Bilbo’s response and walked quickly out of the shaded trees and back to the camp, where the dwarves were finally beginning to stir.

Bilbo stood shell-shocked where he was, unbelieving of the nerve of wizards. First Gandalf had kept this secret - for  _ fun,  _ as the hobbit understood - and then he had the gall to suggest that Bilbo reveal his secrets to the arrogant leader! “ _ Really,”  _ Bilbo thought. But no matter Gandalf’s thoughts or or the striking similarity between the dwarf and himself, Bilbo still resolved to keep his own markings a secret. After all, there was still the question of why the dwarf had no aura. Even if he could see auras, according to Gandalf, the hobbit doubted he could ignore the complete lack of  _ anything _ surrounding Thorin: especially with the vibrant auras of Gandalf and the other dwarves constantly surrounding him. So, as Bilbo loitered in the cool shade and thought on the leader, he resolved himself firmly in his decision. “I shall reveal nothing to Master Oakenshield,” Bilbo muttered quietly.  _ That _ , he was certain of.

It was not until a booming voice belonging to said dwarf shouted “BURGLAR!” that Bilbo snapped out of his musings and headed back to camp. As he gathered his final things and lamented the fact of yet another missed breakfast, a glare fixed itself solidly on his back. The eyes on his figure went unnoticed by the hobbit until he felt a solid presence just behind him, radiating impatience and clear annoyance with the burglar. Thorin regretted assuming the better of the hobbit last night.

“I am glad you have deemed it necessary to appear back in camp, Master Burglar,” Thorin spoke firmly to Bilbo as the hobbit turned around with a grimace. “I do not know where or why you chose to disappear, but I would ask that you refrain from doing so in the future. You have not proven your usefulness just yet,” He moved away with a glare, stars glinting through his open collar and drawing Bilbo’s eye. “I would suggest you do so within the near future. This company has no use for a gentle mannered halfling.”

It was not until Thorin turned and walked to his own pony, and Bilbo had some seriously blasphemous thoughts running through his mind as he glared at the retreating back of the dwarf, that a thought struck and made him freeze for a moment.

Gandalf had said that Thorin could see auras. But Bilbo knew that Thorin  _ had  _ no aura. How could that be? And yet another question filled Bilbo’s mind as he sat blankly astride his pony and followed after the dwarves leaving camp.

Could Thorin see  _ Bilbo’s _ aura? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is ... :/ next one will be better, promise!
> 
> so yes... big reason why gandalf didn't tell bilbo about thorin's stars is because.. he's a little shit. and the two have more in common than bilbo thought! but thorin doesn't know that.
> 
> also can thorin see bilbo's aura?! and why does thorin not have one. all will be revealed ~~
> 
> next update coming monday probably, i work all day tomorrow & don't think i will get to update :/ but asap another one coming out!
> 
> i really appreciate the positive response this story has gotten so far, i did not expect anyone to read it so thank u for your comments and kudos! pls feel free to leave any thoughts on the chapter/kudos below! 
> 
> until the next chapter :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wonders if Thorin sees something he can't. 
> 
> Also, Hobbits are really much tougher than everyone seems to think. Bilbo sets out to prove this to the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: changed a few things. wanted to focus on bilbo & his relationship as a whole with the company - platonically! - not just with thorin 1st! 
> 
> better things coming next chapter!

Several weeks into their journey, Bilbo remained ignorant if Thorin could see the aura surrounding the hobbit. Likewise, the dwarf was entirely unaware that he shared his powers with the newly initiated member of his company.

It wasn’t that Bilbo didn’t _want_ to know if Thorin could see his aura, of course. He assumed, naturally, that the dwarf could. After all, as Gandalf said, Thorin could see auras just as Bilbo did. But, Bilbo thought, to assume and to know are two very different things. And Bilbo did so want to know; in fact, there was little else that had been occupying his thoughts since he’d found out the extent of Thorin’s stars and their powers.

The hobbit’s curiosity was not without reason, however. The thing is, though Bilbo could see the feelings and traits of others simply by probing the air around a being - or, of _most_ people, excluding one dwarf - he had never seen his _own_ aura. 

When the hobbit looked in the mirror he did see himself: his round, flushed cheeks (though now thinner after weeks of hard travel, though they retained their blush), curly blonde hair, and of course, gleaming dots covering almost every inch of his skin. But he had never been able to see anything tinting the air around him. Hard as he tried, Bilbo saw nothing of his own aura when he studied his own reflection. 

Of course, it wasn’t that Bilbo didn’t _have_ one. Of course he did. Everyone did, except one particular dwarf, and he was a definite exception. Bilbo just couldn’t _see_ his. He never really questioned why, though he just always thought it was a caveat of his condition. While he was permitted to see the feelings tinting the air around others, whoever made the hobbit and gifted him these powers did not deem it necessary for him to see his own aura. And really, it wasn’t that bad. Bilbo didn’t have any particular use for seeing his own aura; he knew his thoughts, feelings, traits, emotions. But the curiosity pervaded his mind nonetheless. To know his feelings and to see them dancing in the air around him is, after all, two very different experiences.

Some days, when the going wasn’t tough and the company could slow down for a few hours, Bilbo caught himself thinking of what his aura would be like.

Would it be light with happiness and excitement for the adventure ahead? Or would the anxiety surrounding the dangers and dragon on their journey pervade his aura? Bilbo didn’t think his dislike of their leader was too consuming, but would that emotion be prevalent in his aura as well? Would the bitter darkness of resentment and mistrust tendril in the air around the hobbit? It’s really no wonder the leader disliked the hobbit if he could see those things surrounding the small being.

But, naturally, Bilbo had no way of knowing.

Bilbo Baggins was _not_ going to ask the leader if he could see the aura surrounding the hobbit: which definitely was there, thank you, Bilbo just couldn’t see it. There seems to be no other solution to his questions, so Bilbo resolves to leave the matter alone for now. No matter the levels of his own curiosity. Why stress over something he can’t change?

So, rather than agonize over the invisibility of his own aura and whether Thorin Oakenshield is able to see past the apparent camoflauge of Bilbo’s aura, the hobbit decides to spend his energy on other matters.

For one, convincing the company that he is _not,_ in fact, a useless gentlehobbit too used to the comforts of home. Really, Bilbo had many talents, and while most of the company seems unaware of them he was determined they would not be so for much longer.

The hobbit made up his mind. As long as he remains a part of this company and their quest to reclaim a mountain, he shall do his best to help them with whatever needs helping with. He would prove his worth as a member of their group, no matter how daunting the task may seem.

~

As the company stops for a meal, a bit later than Bilbo would have liked but a meal all the same, Bilbo sets out to prove his worth to their cause (and to their leader).

Before Bombur could even get off of his pony, let alone start a fire, Bilbo had taken some provisions out of his pack and began preparation of the meal. He knows Thorin would allow only a small time for the meal, likely not even a full hour, so he had to be quick in his movements.

When Bombur eventually comes over, Bilbo has already cooked half of the game Fili and Kili had caught earlier on. He’s in the middle of finishing the rest when the dwarf interrupts him with a decidedly sharp tone of voice for the dwarven cook. 

“Excuse me, Master Baggins, but I am indeed the cook in charge of this company. I am more than capable of preparing food and do not need your help to do so,” he glowers at Bilbo and moves to take over, pushing the burglar out of the way.

Bilbo stumbles and doesn’t know what to do. He knew some of the company regarded the hobbit in a less than warm light, that was obvious from the uncertainty in their auras, but he’d thought he was being helpful.

“Master Bombur, please know I meant no offense,” he starts, knowing charisma is always the way to go with stubborn dwarves. “I only observed that this ride today was particularly difficult, and you always do so well with the meals. It’s just, I thought you might be in need of a respite from your responsibilities, at least for one meal.” He watches the dwarf pick up a fork. “I guarantee I meant you no offense, and will refrain from doing so in the future should you lack a want for any assistance,” he gives a small smile to the dwarf and waits with bated breath for a response.

The grin taking over the cook’s face is a vast contrast to the grim frown that’d been there only seconds earlier. Bilbo wondered if that had something to do with the bite he’d just sampled of the seasoned game Bilbo had prepared.

“Master Baggins, this is the best game I have ever tasted. I do not confess to know how you did this without any proper seasoning or herbs, but I am certain I will not react so poorly to your assistance in the future,” his grin drops slightly and he faces the hobbit fully. “I apologize for my offense before, Master Hobbit. Only that dwarves do not take kindly to another - hobbit or otherwise - assuming the mantle of their craft. It is something our race takes with no grain of salt. Of course, I will not place my pride above such a talented cook. If you can forgive me, I will gladly make use of your assistance for the meals the company takes on this journey. And please, call me Bombur,”

To Bilbo’s horror, the dwarf begins to kneel slightly amidst his apology to the hobbit. Bilbo doesn’t think he’s moved faster in his life.

“Really, Master - uhm, Bombur, I mean, that isn’t necessary!” he scrambles to lift the hefty dwarf from his position on the ground. “I should be offering my apologies to you, I had no idea of dwarvish customs! I thank you for making me aware of such things; I can only hope to stop any future blunders regarding your race.” He laughs sheepishly and smiles at the dwarf, stepping beside him and continuing to help prepare the meal. “And Bilbo is fine,” he looked at Bombur with a smile.

The company eats the meal prepared by dwarf and hobbit and are pleasantly surprised with the taste. The more discerning of the company, Gandalf included, question Bombur on his spices and are all but shocked when he reveals he had assistance from their hobbit.

Really, Bilbo doesn’t know why they’re surprised, but accepts their thanks sheepishly. A bachelor like himself would have had to know how to make good food, and any hobbit should know how to do so regardless. Good food proved a cure for many hobbitish ills. _It seems_ , Bilbo thought amusedly, tucking into his portion and watching the company do the same, _the same is true for dwarves._

~

As the company sets off, meal finished and bellies full, impressed dwarven gazes regard Bilbo with a certain curiosity, their leader excluded. The hobbit had done his best to help the company in the past weeks, sure, and there are those among the group who never really had a doubt about their burglar’s abilities.

But many had also assumed that the small creature lacked very little in the talents of living on the road. He was used to a warm hearth and fresh meals nearly every hour of the day; life on the road was a far cry from what they assumed the hobbit knew. How could a soft being like Bilbo Baggins hope to survive a week on the road, let alone the entirety of their journey to Erebor?

The dwarves, it seemed, had much to discover about their burglar before the adventure was done.

~

As the days continue to pass, Bilbo is as steadfast in his mission as the day he resolved himself to it.

When their ponies became dirty with mud and brambles from the road, Bilbo took it upon himself to groom the creatures and treat them with fruits he’d found on the journey. The hobbit may not have enjoyed riding the things, but he spent many a spring and summer tending to the ponies at the edges of the shire, smoothing their coat and feeding them treats their owner was clueless of. He liked the creatures, thought they were majestic in a way few other animals could be. And these ponies, saddled by dwarves for near every hour of the day, deserved some special treatment, if Bilbo said so himself. He is rewarded for his efforts by warm thanks and smiles from the dwarves as they mount their ponies. Well, from most of the dwarves.

(Thorin just looks at the pony and grunts before riding away from Bilbo. Well, he’s doing his best, Bilbo thought.)

The hobbit stops complaining, too, about things that can’t exist during a life on the road. 

For the first weeks of their journey, Bilbo openly lamented the warmth of his clawfoot tub, the fire he always kept burning in his sitting room, and, of course, the lacy handkerchief he left behind in his haste to prepare for the adventure. The dwarves, Bilbo could see, held little sympathy for the hobbit. They had lost their home a long time ago, and had been living this way for long before they met the hobbit. Bilbo knew this, yet he complained all the same. He was ripped away from his comforts, should he not mourn their loss?

When the road gets hard and the breaks, as well as the meals, get briefer and sparser as time goes on, Bilbo puts an end to his complaining. He uses the scrap of cloth gifted by Bofur to wipe his runny nose, and he finds he stops missing his handkerchief quite so much. As he sits by the fire in the night, eating his portion heartily and laughing with his companions, he finds he does not miss the loneliness of his hearth as earnestly as before. Bathing in a river was really much quicker than in a tub, Bilbo reasons, and efficiency is never something to be mourned.

He always saved enough food to eat on Myrtle’s back, and when that ran out, he thought that the gnawing in his stomach could certainly wait until dinner time. And when the hunger got too much, hobbit appetites nothing to take lightly, Bilbo - in the middle of comparing the pain of hunger to being burnt alive by Smaug - still said nothing. He probably should have; hobbits require more food than other races and Bilbo _knew_ that. But the hunger faded quickly when Fili offered him his portion of jerky from the night before with a smile at the hobbit, and Bilbo rather thought his efforts had been paying off.

Living on the road was not so bad, Bilbo thought. He might miss a few things, of course, but the company surrounding him had quieted those yearnings more and more with each new day.

As the dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo settled for the night after another long day of travel, the hobbit wondered sleepily at his progression with the dwarves. Bilbo shut his eyes and fell into the embrace of sleep, and thought briefly of the friendships he'd made in these last weeks and the bond, however new, between himself and the company.

He wondered how he'd be able to leave it all behind, when this adventure was done.

He wondered if he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little longer today, though not by much. btw i didn't focus on it much but bilbo's stars are still secret to the company. i will do a big reveal (if) they ever find out, dont worry.
> 
> also bilbo can't see his own aura - but he definitely has one, just invisible. right? right.
> 
> i really hate when bilbo is portrayed as "useless" until he saves thorin's life so i decided he would not be like that in my fic; hobbits are hardy creatures and bilbo can do anything!!
> 
> anyway until next chapter! i'll try to keep updating regularly, i work at a grocery store and have a busy schedule next week but i'm gonna do my best! 
> 
> thanks for the support and kudos, i am really enjoying writing this i hope you are all lovin it too!
> 
> until next time :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo becomes closer to the company; he's happy, but Thorin still hates him. Bilbo wonders why.
> 
> Bilbo doesn't know why he's thinking about the leader at all. He doesn't get very long to think about it, however, as he's busy almost dying.
> 
> And saving dwarven hide, with the help of a wizard, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo double update!! pls enjoy :D

A few days later, Bilbo was more comfortable with his place in the company than ever before. 

He had developed a steady camaraderie with Bombur over meal preparation, and he realized he had a lot more in common with the rotund dwarf than would be assumed at first glance. Bilbo had learned a lot about dwarven food from Bombur, and the same was true of the dwarf in regards to typical hobbit fare. Bilbo looked forward to trying some of the dishes he’d heard of as soon as he reached a real kitchen again; be that in Erebor, once it was claimed, or back in his own hobbit hole. Bombur couldn’t stop asking Bilbo of various hobbit delicacies, and assured the hobbit that when they got the mountain back, several would be on the menu. “ _ Only the best for our burglar,”  _ Bombur had said, chuckling at Bilbo’s resulting blush.

His relationship with the Durin brothers had developed, as well. While initially friendly, the two brothers had drawn away from Bilbo somewhat when they observed their uncle’s cold behavior towards the hobbit. However, the longer Bilbo travelled with the group, the less Fili and Kili understood their uncle’s dislike. They spent many hours with Bilbo, teasing him about his gentle ways and fancy clothes, but when it came down to it they liked “Master Boggins” very much, indeed and couldn’t understand why their uncle felt differently. Bilbo was hard pressed to feel anything but fondness towards the brothers, in turn. He was right about the assumption he’d made weeks ago, that the brothers could not be parted; any time he was with one of them the other was quick to follow in his brother’s steps. Thus, as Bilbo got to know one he learned much about the other. 

Bilbo had grown quite close as well with Bofur too. He could speak to the understanding dwarf when he found himself unable to express his feelings to anyone else, and Bofur listened with not a hint of judgement in his aura. Despite the obvious differences between the two beings, they got along like a house on fire. Bilbo found himself spending more evenings with Bofur than with any of the other dwarfs, discussing hobbit and dwarf customs alike, as well as more personal things. Bilbo learned that Bofur was a toy carver before he joined Thorin’s company; Bofur learned that Bilbo had always wanted kids, but had remained a bachelor thus far in life. Briefly, Bilbo envisioned a life with Bofur as his companion. He wondered how the dwarf would receive this idea.

The other dwarves in the company had come to regard Bilbo more warmly than before, as well. While he did not have the same relationship with Gloin or Nori, for example, as with Fili and Kili, the former dwarves never hesitated to smile in the direction of their hobbit or to praise him on his efforts with a meal. In the first weeks of their journey, they had barely looked at the hobbit. The same was true for the rest of the company, though Bilbo hoped to become closer with all of them in turn as the trek to Erebor continued. He already saw their once-uncertain auras beginning to warm towards him and his actions.

The one member of the group that did not show any warmth to the burglar, despite his efforts and friendship with most of the other dwarves, was one Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo wasn’t necessarily surprised, though he had hoped the leader would warm up to him a bit more than he had. Or, more accurately, that he’d warm up at all.

Bilbo was still wary of the leader, lack of aura and all, but he had hoped to have something close to civility concerning his relationship with the dwarf. No matter how close he got to the rest of the dwarves, he doubted any of them would think twice if Thorin abruptly decided to be rid of the burglar. And that was looking more and more likely by the day, unfortunately for Bilbo.

It was on this thought that Bilbo ruminated, staring sulkily into the fire when an old dwarf plopped down next to him. Bilbo had had little chance to talk with Balin so far and was surprised at the other’s sudden presence next to him.

“What’s got you down, Mister Bilbo?” Balin asked, a kind smile that never seemed to leave present on his face. “I know you and I haven’t gotten to speak much, but I couldn’t help myself. I wonder what that fire did to have you glaring so at it?” He spoke with amusement in his tone but also a hint of worry. Just because he was not as close with Bilbo as the others did not mean he didn’t care for the hobbit’s well being.

“Oh! Thank you, Master Balin,” Bilbo said, giving a small smile and a nod to the dwarf when he said  _ Just Balin is fine, laddie.  _ “It’s just that I am slightly worried over the whereabouts of Fili and Kili.” The statement was not entirely untrue, so Bilbo didn’t feel terrible about deceiving Balin. It had been a while since the boys were seen at camp, and he knew grazing the ponies didn’t take  _ that  _ long, gentlehobbit though he was. 

The older dwarf looked at Bilbo with understanding in his eyes and aura. “I see, laddie. They tend to get into mischief wherever they go, those boys,” Balin spoke with fondness in his tone. “I’m certain they’re in no trouble, Bilbo. Though if you are truly worried, I’m sure no one’d mind that you check on the lads,” Balin suggested. He knew the relationship Bilbo shared with the boys, and if anyone griped about the hobbit’s absence, Balin would quickly put them in their place. Even if that person should be their leader.

Bilbo looked unsure at first, but ultimately nodded at Balin’s suggestion, becoming genuinely worried for the boys and temporarily forgetting his thoughts about Thorin. “I think I shall, Balin. Thank you, I’m sorry to have bothered you! I’ll be back before anyone knows I was gone,” the hobbit smiled at Balin, grabbing some food for the brothers, and was off before he could say another word. Balin looked after the hobbit’s retreating back and privately resolved to become friends with the hobbit, ire of his leader be damned.

~

Bilbo did eventually find the boys, though it was certainly not in a circumstance he’d have liked to.

The brothers were crouching side by side, hiding beneath a fallen tree and staring intensely at something in the distance, though Bilbo was too far to determine what. As he walked closer to the boys, food in hands, he made to ask them what they were doing and why they’d made him worry.

Just as he opened his mouth, Fili turned around and began fervently hushing the hobbit, gesturing for him to stop speaking and “Come look Mister Boggins!”, ignoring Bilbo’s glare at the pronunciation of his name. Bilbo crouched down beside the boys and was about to scold them for their irresponsibility when he noticed what Fili and Kili were staring so hard at.

Trolls. There were trolls there. So close Bilbo could smell them.  _ Trolls. _

Bilbo nearly fainted.

Before he could, Kili grasped his arm, looking with wide eyes at the hobbit. “Mister Boggins, I hate to ask this of you, you must know.” He looked nervous at what he was about to ask his friend. “But you see, those trolls there have taken, uhm…” Fili looked encouragingly at his brother. “Well, they’ve taken our ponies,” the younger smiled sheepishly.

_ Oh, bother and befuddle these dwarves,  _ Bilbo thought.

As he looked closer, beyond the foul aura of the trolls and their bodies, he did indeed see their ponies at the edge of the trolls’ camp.  _ Poor Myrtle. _

“Kili and I thought, you understand, that because you’re our burglar-” he paused at Bilbo’s sharp inhale “-that you could go in and cut that rope, just there, and let them free!” His whispers grew more excited as his explanation continued. “I’m sure you could do it, you are a Master Burglar after all!”

And oh, the smiles adorning the brothers’ faces were bright as ever, despite the current circumstances. And Bilbo  _ was  _ meant to be a burglar, he could hardly refuse the two. It would be a good practice run for sneaking inside a dragon-occupied mountain, at least. Right? 

Decidedly queasy and yet filled with determination, Bilbo felt some small level of comfort as the brothers guaranteed him that “We’ll be right here, anything happens and we’ll come blazing in with swords, Bilbo! Really, nothing can go wrong!” He nodded and headed into the fray.

The Master Burglar made it as far as the shoddy fencing that held the ponies and realized he had no knife, deciding to pickpocket the sharp object concealed in the purse of one of the trolls. 

It was then that Bilbo discovered, hanging in the air and covered in troll snot, that there was indeed plenty that could go wrong.

He thought for a moment, suspended in the air and in the middle of three trolls discussing how best to eat this “burrahobbit,” that this was it. He couldn’t have lasted long on this adventure, Thorin was right, and now he was going to die; death by troll. Rare among hobbits, at least.

As he braced himself for the inevitable end, his eyes sprung open at the sound of dwarves rampaging into the clearing, swords and axes waving and slashing the trolls legs and feet. Relief flooded through him as he was thrown to the ground, knocking Kili down in the process...

...Only to be lost again as the trolls held his arms and legs taut, demanding the dwarves drop their weapons lest “this burrahobbit is torn to pieces!” Bilbo wasn’t sure the dwarves would do it, but as he made eye contact with the glaring eyes of Thorin Oakenshield, he heard the sound of their weapons hitting the forest floor.

They’d given themselves up. And now they were all going to die, because of Bilbo’s mistake.

As he was shoved into a bag and thrown onto the pile of glaring dwarves, Bilbo wondered where Gandalf had gotten off to. The company could really do with a wizard right now.

~

Some dwarves were already roasting on the trolls’ fire, the rest soon to be doing the same when the trolls began discussing how best to prepare these creatures. They, evidently, had never eaten a dwarf (or hobbit) before, and were not sure how to cook them. Bilbo noticed the sun rising slowly in the horizon.

A thought struck the hobbit. Maybe he could do something to save the company after all.

As the trolls discussed how best to roast the small creatures, they were interrupted by a sudden yell.

“No!” Bilbo yelped, feeling the attention of the trolls as well as the dwarves around him suddenly zero in on his being. “You really don’t want to do that. Roasting them would be absolutely  _ miserable,  _ I guarantee,” he started, having drawn the trolls fully in with his speech.

“They’re awful roasted, really! No, a proper waste, that. You’ve got such a good bounty here, if you roast them they’d taste terrible!” The dwarves were peering at him curiously, wondering just where their hobbit was going with this. “You’d better chop them up and put them into a pie.”

The clearing was overwhelmed with the sudden protests of the dwarves as the trolls looked more intently on the burrahobbit.

“A pie, eh? That sounds good, it does! Let’s choose this one!” One of the trolls grabbed Oin, roasting slowly over the fire, and the shouts of the dwarves - as well as kicks directed Bilbo’s way - became overwhelming as the troll pulled his knife from his purse.

“Not that one! He’s got parasites!” Bilbo shouted desperately, hoping to draw out the process for longer. “Nasty things. He’ll infect you with something awful if you eat him, definitely.” The trolls looked skeptical but made to grab another dwarf instead, only to be stopped by the smallest of the group once again. “Him too! In fact, we’ve all got them. You’d really better let us go, the parasites are terrible!” He braced himself against the increasingly loud shouts and denials of the dwarves, cursing the slow uptake of his companions.

Meeting Thorin’s eye, the hobbit gave him a desperate look. Their leader’s eyes widened minutely and he kicked the dwarf closest to him. Looking at Thorin, the dwarves seemed to understand a nonverbal sign from their leader as their protests turned into avid acceptances of the apparent parasites.

Shouts of “Yes!” and “Nasty parasites, we’ve got them!” and more were suddenly drowned out by a yell from the biggest troll.

“Do you think we’re thick, then? I say we eat them all anyway, starting with the troublemaker.” He drew his mace back amidst yells from the dwarves (Bilbo even thought he’d heard Thorin’s shout in the mix) and encouragement from his peers. Bilbo resigned himself to death, yet again, when a familiar voice rang through the camp.

Gandalf was behind the three creatures, raising his staff and bringing it down with a crack on the boulder below him. As the sun peeked from behind him, the trolls began turning into solid stone, shouting and becoming eternally frozen by the dawn where they stood. 

_ Thank Yavanna for wizards,  _ Bilbo thought, promptly closing his eyes and fainting.

~

Bilbo came to only minutes later, surrounded by dwarves climbing out of bags and Gandalf above him, looking worriedly down at the hobbit. At least no one else had noticed his brief shock-induced slumber, Bilbo reassured himself. That his clumsiness had nearly cost the dwarves their lives was terrible enough; he dreaded to think of their words had they found out he fainted after all of it.

But Fili and Kili were upon the hobbit in an instant, blubbering and asking forgiveness as they checked the hobbit for injuries and hugged him tightly to their bodies. “We’re so sorry Mister Boggins, we didn’t mean for you to get caught! We won’t do it again, promise, we’re just glad you’re okay.” 

Bilbo was blushing and reassuring them that “Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry boys!” in the middle of their outburst when he met the eye of their leader, stomping towards the three with anger and something else in his gaze, stars glinting dangerously on his arms.

“You should have never come on this journey. You bring only danger to this company-” Thorin began berating the hobbit, who had hardly enough time to feel ashamed before he was interrupted by Fili and Kili.

The brothers were talking on top of each other as they defended their burglar. “He’s the only reason we’re alive now, Uncle! It’s our fault for asking him to get the ponies out,” they spoke firmly, glaring at their uncle (and Bilbo was privately pleased, though he never thought he’d see the day those eyes looked on Thorin with anything but adoration). “We will take any punishment you dole out, but Bilbo has done nothing wrong. You  _ must  _ know that,” They finished, looking at Thorin and daring him to say anything else.

It wasn’t until Thorin walked away, silent but with one last glare at the hobbit and Fili and Kili were back upon him, hugging him and reassuring him he did nothing wrong, that Bilbo reflected on the pain Thorin’s reprimand had caused him.

He wasn’t sure why it hurt to be so rebuked by the leader; he’d done it often enough, Bilbo thought. But to see the clear hatred in Thorin’s eye was new. Bilbo  _ had  _ been trying to help at the behest of the Durin brothers, even if he’d made a mistake. Bilbo wondered how he had become deserving of the emotion in the leader’s eyes.

With a shock, he wondered when he’d begun caring what their leader thought of him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the trolls!!! i couldn't not include this scene. but why is thorin so mad at bilbo? what's hiding behind that angry dwarven face?
> 
> also hinted bofur/bilbo but don't worry about it too much, still endgame bagginshield! if thorin can stop being such a jerk, of course ;)
> 
> bilbo's friends really like him, btw - if thorin tried to throw him out they'd revolt. but bilbo doesn't know that. silly hobbit.
> 
> as always feel free to leave thoughts and kudos below, next updates might be a little slower bc a busy work schedule but i will do my best to be prompt!
> 
> until next time :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna continue doing longer chapters i think! let me know if u like shorter ones or longer ones - both will likely be put out at the same time frame tho :)

The morning after the troll debacle found the company adorned with various new weapons, Bilbo included. As he studied the sword ( _Not_ a letter opener, thank you Balin), the hobbit found himself teeming with anxiety about the potential and (very real) dangers that might befall him and the company throughout their quest. So far, troll incident aside, the company had faced very little danger that they were not capable of easily overcoming. Bilbo did not know if, should they come across a pack of orcs, wargs, or other evil creatures, that they would be able to defeat them. 

Sheathing his sword - Sting - Bilbo did his best to put those thoughts out of his mind. It would do him no good to fret over things he cannot change; no matter how the fear seemed to eke into his very bones at the thought of facing down an orc with his new weapon, blue glow casting a strange light on the creature’s hideous face.

No, it would do no good to dwell on that at all.

As the company rested briefly following their encounter with the trolls, Bilbo was determined to set his mind on other matters.

What he did not expect, however, was for his thoughts to drift to the company’s leader.

Reflecting on his near-death experience and what came after, Bilbo could not find an explanation for why Thorin’s words had cut him so deeply. It certainly wasn’t the first time the dwarf had said something of that nature to Bilbo, and the hobbit was certain that it wouldn’t be the last. His words, as always, regarding the hobbit were unimpressed and, Bilbo thought, rather cruel.

“ _You should have never come on this journey._ ”

Even the memory of the words cut like a knife into Bilbo’s skin.

He doesn’t know _why_ he suddenly cares about what their leader thinks. He’s been ruminating on it since the words left the dwarf’s mouth and stabbed with a deep pain in the hobbit, unlike anything he’d felt before: but still, he cannot find an answer.

Sneaking a glance at the dwarf out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo wonders when he began craving something more from the leader: and when he’d heard anything from Thorin other than the short, often insulting, comments he directed toward the hobbit. He wonders when he began craving acknowledgement, maybe even appreciation, from the stone-faced leader. He wonders how it would feel to have one of Thorin’s rare smiles directed towards him, blinding in a way that even the stars on the dwarf’s skin were envious.

Bilbo supposes it must be that Thorin doesn’t hesitate to share his praises with every other member of the company, perhaps Gandalf excluded. When Fili brings back a pheasant for the group, Thorin shoots a grin at his nephew and congratulates him on the rare find. When Ori manages to catch a fish, regardless of the long effort that it took, the older dwarf barks a laugh and claps the slight dwarf on the shoulder, commenting that all talents take practice.

Yet, when the hobbit literally _saves his nephews’ lives,_ the only thing the dwarven leader can tell Bilbo is that he doesn’t have a place in the company, that he should have stayed in his comfortable hobbit hole.

Yes, of course that’s it. Bilbo just wants some validation from Thorin; after all, to gain approval from one’s leader is hardly something uncommon. Especially when that leader was once a king under a mountain. No, there is no other reason the dwarf’s harsh remarks affected Bilbo so deeply. None at all.

Right?

But as Bilbo stews on the issue Thorin rises, walking to relieve Dwalin of his watch duty and telling the other dwarf quietly to “Get some rest, friend. We’ll have a long day ahead of us,” with a small smile and a nod to the other’s bedroll. Bilbo feels his heart swell and decides, rather suddenly and not at all relating to the warm feeling in his chest, to again avert his thoughts to other things.

It is not so easy.

Perhaps the issue was made more complex by Thorin’s appearance. Of course Bilbo was intrigued by the dwarf’s stars, how they aligned on his skin; often Bilbo had to tear his eyes away from the leader when the company stopped to bathe, eyes drawn to the constellations swirling across his chest and abdomen. And his arms, legs, and back. Bilbo really _was_ only admiring the stars and making a note to compare them to his own, thank you.

His staring was only made more obvious by the fact that the hobbit refused to bathe with the rest of the company, preferring instead to remove his clothes and wash when the sun had long dipped past the mountains, stars glinting brightly in the night sky and on Bilbo’s body. The others assumed it was silly hobbit notions of propriety, of course, and Bilbo wasn’t keen to enlighten them.

But Bilbo could not deceive himself, hard as he might try. The stars were not the only things that made the dwarven leader difficult to ignore, that made him hard to stop thinking about.

When the dwarves bathed and the leader stripped to nudeness, washing his hair and body with a thoroughness only those who have rare chances to make themselves clean understand, it was not only the stars which captivated Bilbo’s stare.

The dwarf’s arms, raised to scrub suds into his long hair - much too long for hobbit standards, though Bilbo found himself hard pressed to think of those too much at the moment - would flex with straight muscle and the hobbit found himself wondering how it would feel to be caged in by those arms, to feel them around his waist.

Thorin’s chest, glistening with water, with two rings through each pec that glittered every time the sun shone just so on their surface. Bilbo wondered how it would feel for them to brush against his chest, and then wondered how such a thought came to be in the first place.

And oh, the dwarf’s middle! So very unlike the hobbit’s own, which had gained some definition after weeks of hard travel but was still really very hobbity, the dwarf’s stomach was positively lined with strength, abs flexing with every movement and shift Thorin made.

But nothing could compare to the legs of the leader. Visible only when the dwarf stepped into the water and again when he came out of it, Thorin’s legs were the most popular item of Bilbo’s attention. They were strong and thicker than the hobbits’ own at _least_ two times over, corded everywhere with the evidence of a life’s hard work, proof of Thorin’s power and strength. Bilbo blushed when he wondered how they’d feel against his own, intertwined with the hobbit’s much smaller ones. 

And as Bilbo reflects on his sudden sensitivity to their leader’s words and _why_ he cares about what Thorin thinks of him, how he treats him so differently to the rest of the company, his face suddenly pales and the hobbit takes his eyes immediately off of the leader’s silhouette, framed against the light of the fire.

_Oh._

With a rather unwelcome realization, Bilbo realizes why Thorin’s words affected him so deeply. Why he suddenly wants something more from their leader, to be acknowledged as more than a nuisance to the company. Why he is so enthralled by the mystery of the dwarf’s skin.

And, blinking slowly, Bilbo thinks that none of these things have been very sudden at all.

Staring again at the dwarf and studying the frown marring his face as he stared into the flames, as if remembering something terrible and doing his best not to show it, Bilbo wondered how it took him so long to notice it.

How he had not realized his feelings for the stubborn dwarf.

~

Later, after the company had been ambushed by wargs, orcs, and one odd wizard whom Gandalf had claimed to know, they found themselves in Rivendell. Bilbo still didn’t know much about Thorin, stupid feelings be damned, but he did know that if there was one thing the dwarf despised more than anything - _More than me,_ Bilbo thought with a frown creasing his brow - it was elves. 

And really, Bilbo didn’t pretend to understand why. Out of everywhere he’d been, including his beloved town of Hobbiton, Rivendell was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen. He may have been a bit biased, having been interested in the fairer race since an elf visited his mother long ago, but there was nothing quite like looking upon the face of a being that had existed for thousands of years and would likely exist for thousands more. Bilbo could not fathom it.

But, unfortunately, his mind allowed little room for elves and their majesties, no matter how much Bilbo would like it to be otherwise. No, the hobbit’s mind was firmly fixed on the one dwarf who regarded the elves with nothing but disdain. And really, even if Thorin did hate the burglar, Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to gape openly at the elves, to question them of their magics, what they knew, what he might learn from them. Not when he knew how deep-seated the leader’s mistrust of elves was. Not when he knew the reason for that mistrust.

So, instead of exploring the Elven stronghold and talking with the dark-haired elf who had greeted them upon entry into Rivendell and had looked at Bilbo and then Thorin like he knew something they didn’t, Bilbo found himself sulking. Staring into nothing with the dwarves crammed around him, Thorin having refused to allow a single member out of his sight - Gandalf excluded but, surprisingly, not Bilbo.

It was in this state that Bofur found the hobbit.

Bilbo had had little time to talk with his friend the past few days, the attacks on the company having prevented any discussion between the two, and the hobbit regretted that he had not spent more time with the dwarf. As Bofur settled next to Bilbo, asking him quietly what was wrong, why he looked so somber, Bilbo found himself unable to lie to the dwarf.

“I must be honest with you Bofur,” Bilbo started, facing the dwarf and preparing to bear his soul to his friend. “I have been deeply hurt by the words of this company’s leader. I find myself regarding Master Oakenshield in an attractive light, but he continues to treat me with nothing but disdain!” Bilbo ranted, grateful that the two were sitting away from the company and away from one leader’s prying ears.

“I must admit, I was not an admirable adventuring companion when I set out on this journey with you all,” Bilbo continued, ever grateful for Bofur’s kind eyes as they listened to his words. “I complained often and did little to help around the camp. But I have done nothing of the sort for at least a month now!” The hobbit was growing red in the face, but managed to keep his volume down. They weren’t _that_ far from the group, after all. Rivendell was not the largest of places. 

“And I find myself rather hurt by his actions and disregard for me. Yavanna, I even saved his nephews!” Bilbo nearly yelled, stopped only by Bofur’s warning look, with a widening to his eyes in the direction of their comrades. Getting himself under control, Bilbo continued, “I just want him to treat me as a member of this company, not as some useless gentlehobbit.” Bilbo finished, looking dejected and waiting for Bofur to tell him he was being silly, that Thorin just acts like that sometimes. 

Which Bilbo knew was a lie; Thorin acted this way with no one else, except maybe the wizard that accompanied the group. Gandalf sometimes did that to people, Bilbo thought with a small level of amusement.

But Bofur didn’t dismiss Bilbo’s concerns. Ever the loyal friend, the dwarf smiled at his hobbit companion with a gleam of understanding in his eye, putting an arm around his shoulder ( _Though it was not so large as Thorin’s, Bilbo thought, and then promptly put that thought from his mind)._

Before the dwarf could say a single thing to reassure his hobbit friend, however, a familiar pair of dwarven boots stomped into the small space occupied by Bofur and Bilbo. Looking into the blank face of the dwarf who interrupted the two, Bilbo found himself wishing he was anywhere else.

  
Thorin regarded the two with a vacant expression, but Bilbo wondered what was going on behind that mask. The position the leader had found the two in was just slight of being too compromising, Bofur with his arm fully around the hobbit’s shoulders and Bilbo curling into Bofur’s warmth, grateful for any sense of comfort he could get. 

Then, just as soon as he appeared, the leader was gone, shouting behind him at Bofur to take over Gloin’s watch duty even though the red-haired dwarf had started only an hour ago. And really, why it was necessary to hold watch in a place where no danger lurked, Bilbo did not know in the first place. But as the two dwarves left, Thorin refusing to acknowledge the hobbit (and maybe that was an improvement from the harsh words, at least?) and Bofur giving a small smile in his direction, Bilbo thought dejectedly that the leader now had another reason to hate the hobbit. The position Bofur and him had been in may have looked slightly compromising, however much it was not so.

Bilbo buried his head in his hands as the two dwarves walked away.

Not for the first time since his revelation, he found himself cursing Thorin and them himself for feeling this way. 

And, not for the first time, Bilbo thought only one thing.

_Blast these dwarves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bilbo u poor sod. u will get through this. also bofur, what an angel! bilbo didn't explicitly say why he was feeling so put out w/ thorin but bofur gets it! he gets it.
> 
> i haven't proofread this one as thoroughly as other chapters so if you noticed any errors/etc. please feel free to let me know! i'll come through and edit it when i get a chance tomorrow but for now pls don't hesitate to comment if u notice anything off :)
> 
> i was thinking for a future chapter to be more in the pov of thorin? bc we really dont know his feelings on bilbo at this point, just what the hobbit THINKS thorin thinks. if u would be interested in that please let me know!
> 
> as always feel free to leave comments/kudos, and thank u for the support!! i am consistently blown away.
> 
> until next time! (which should be approx. sometime on friday) :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets advice from an elf and wonders if he's actually very good at keeping secrets at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally a new chapter! thank u for ur patience!
> 
> *proofread but its 1am and i am .. tired ..

Hours after Bofur and Thorin left the hobbit, still Bilbo was stewing in his feelings and the unfortunate fact that no member of the company would allow him out of their sight long enough to explore Rivendell.

Not that Bilbo would really do so anyway; he didn’t particularly desire to test the ire of his companions by losing himself in the winding halls of the elven city, regardless of how badly he wanted to take his mind off of his newly discovered (and unwanted) admiration for Thorin by losing himself in the massive library that was only a few halls away. His mother taught him Sindarin when he was a faunt, but Bilbo had hardly had time or opportunity to really  _ study  _ the elven tales. And really, it’s not like anyone would notice if the hobbit slipped away for a few moments… or hours… 

Just as the hobbit was changing his mind about testing the anger of his companions and was moving slowly towards the hallway, Thorin himself came up to Bilbo.

“Master Burglar. I require your presence immediately, you are to attend a meeting with myself and Balin between the wizard and the  _ elf, _ ” Thorin’s face wrinkling with disgust as he mentioned the last member of the meeting. He did not wait for the hobbit’s response before turning away and walking quickly towards the door.

Stunned into stillness, the hobbit didn’t move until Balin looked back at him, raising an eyebrow in that way that only the white-haired dwarf knew how to do. And Bilbo didn’t know why the leader wanted him at this meeting; he’d made his feelings towards the smallest member of their company quite clear, Bilbo thought. But hobbits were curious creatures, and even if Bilbo wanted to avoid Thorin at all costs - avoidance was surely the best way to squash his feelings towards the dwarf, after all - he could not pass up the opportunity to go with the two..

Seeing Elrond for a bit longer and perhaps stealing a moment or two away to speak to him afterwards was only an added benefit, of course.

~

After the meeting had concluded, Bilbo more confused than enlightened after the proceedings, the hobbit and dwarves made ready to leave the wizard and elf when a voice stopped the three, speaking only to Bilbo.

“Master Hobbit,” Elrond started, and Bilbo was startled to realise he was speaking directly to him, despite the use of the title, “I would request that you stay behind a moment.” Looking at the less-than-benevolent expression on Thorin’s face and the decidedly uncertain one on Balin’s, the elf continued. “That is, if your companions would allow me to steal you away for a moment,” he finished with a smile in his eyes.

And maybe it was the fact that the least important member of their company - or, at least that is what Bilbo thought, according to Thorin - was being requested for an audience with the elven leader, maybe it was that word, steal, or maybe it was something else that made Thorin’s face erupt in rage as he opened his mouth to refuse the elf.

But the hobbit beat him to it.

“I would be honored, Master Elrond!” His back was to the dwarves and thus he missed their appalled expressions, though the hobbit had a good idea of the reactions of his companions anyhow. “They certainly  _ don’t _ mind, I am certain. Yes, I am quite willing and able to stay behind.”

Thorin and Balin almost moved after the hobbit to make it quite clear that he was not, in fact, willing and able to do any such thing. And one cannot say why they did not, though the gleam in one particular wizard’s eye may have had something to do with it.

The dwarves left the room in a daze, though Bilbo would not notice that until much later. As he approached the elf, Gandalf having left the room, Bilbo noticed the way that the elder being’s eyes lingered on the places his stars shone, hidden as they were beneath his heavy clothing.

Before he could question the curious gaze of the elf in front of him, Elrond asked him a question that shook him and then made him wonder if he was never really that good at secret-keeping in the first place, despite his efforts.

“Master Baggins, if I may be permitted to call you so, I couldn’t help but notice the similarity between yourself and the dwarven leader of this company.” Bilbo gaped, swallowing loudly. Elrond smiled. “I can guess that he himself is not aware of this likeness?”   
  


Bilbo didn’t know why he felt suddenly ashamed at the secret he had kept, but something in the elf’s eyes as they regarded him shrewdly made him wonder if he had done the right thing in hiding his stars from the company, if he should have shown them and revealed his secret earlier, should reveal it  _ now. _

But then again, maybe that was just elves for you.

Checking his clothes frantically, he saw that nothing was amiss; his sleeves were rolled down, pants hiding his ankles and not a single star was visible on his skin. He wondered how Elrond had come to know of his powers in the first place: Bilbo was beginning to suspect, not for the first time, that Gandalf may have played a part when Elrond spoke again.

“I do not need to see physical proof of your constellations to know that the powers of the Valar reside within you, Master Baggins,” Elrond began, smile bright with something ancient and Bilbo could hardly stand to look at it. “The stars are as evident in your eyes, in your very being as they are dotted on your skin.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure how to react to this information. He’d thought he’d done well in keeping his condition, if one could call it that, hidden from anyone he didn’t want to know about it. And, for many years now, that had been everyone the hobbit had met or known. But, thinking on his meeting with Gandalf and now with Elrond, he realized that both had known about his powers when the hobbit had said nothing to hint about them. A part of him thought that was simply due to the type of things that they were - a powerful wizard and an ancient elf. Another part thought he’d had to work on his secret keeping.

But, like with Gandalf, the elf in front of Bilbo showed no ill intent through his words, actions, or - most telling - his aura. He intended no harm towards the hobbit, aura shining with curiosity and kindness and something ancient, everything but the last directed towards the smaller being in front of him. Bilbo felt the fear and nervousness dissipate almost as quickly as they had come.

“Though, I do wonder, Master Baggins,” Elrond started, looking at Bilbo with curiosity and something like judgement, though of the kind a father would give to his son. Wanting him to do better but not blaming his choices. “Why you have not told Master Oakenshield of this apparent likeness between yourself and him.” 

Seeing the hobbit’s nervous and uncertain expression return in a flash, the elf moved closer and crouched slightly in front of Bilbo. Normally, and had this been anyone else, Bilbo would have felt embarrassed and demanded they rise immediately. But the elf did so in such a way that the hobbit could only feel comforted, reassured of Elrond’s intentions that were clear in his movement.

“Master Hobbit,” Elrond started, his gaze knowing as he regarded the hobbit, “I understand what you have faced as a result of revealing your stars to others. The scars on your skin may have faded but they will never leave you heart. This could not be clearer.

“But, if I may, I implore you to share this part of yourself with your dwarven companions.” The elf continued further, imparting his wisdom on the small hobbit. “This similarity is very rarely seen between two beings; it is my opinion that he and you both would benefit from Master Oakenshield being made aware of it.”

And Bilbo doesn’t know what to do. He understands distantly that the elf is speaking reason; the hobbit was closer now to much of the company than before, and he trusted that not one of them, even those he knew little, would hunt him or try to take his stars.

Even Thorin, much as he seemed to hate the hobbit, would not likely react harshly to his stars. Though he might be a bit surprised, to put it lightly

But old habits die hard, and Bilbo wasn’t sure he was ready to risk his life in order to let this one pass.

Stuttering quietly and nodding, but not anywhere near sure he meant it, the hobbit spoke out a “M-maybe, Master Elf, I shall think on it. I must retire now, a very late night, I’m sure you understand!” 

All but running from the room, Bilbo quickly left the elf and didn’t think until later how very terrible his manners were at that moment. But he adopted more of his Tookish side on this adventure anyway, and somehow he was certain the elf had been subjected to far worse than the bad manners of one well-meaning hobbit.

Yet, Elrond left behind him and Bilbo nearing the spot where the dwarves were “camped,” the hobbit had a moment to feel quietly reassured amidst his turmoil. Yet another being had come to know of his powers, of his stars, and they intended him no harm, no carving of his skin. Maybe, one day, he  _ could  _ tell the others. His friends. He could tell them that he had the same gifts as their leader, and maybe they would embrace him in spite of them.  _ Because _ of them.

But that day was not now, Bilbo resolved, heading into the fray with a thoughtful look on his face and heading directly to his bedroll. He’d had enough people find out about his condition - against his will, thank you very much - for today and he did not particularly feel ready to disclose such a large secret about himself quite yet to a company whose leader despised him.

Maybe one day.

As he neared his spot he was bombarded by two young brothers and questions of “What did he want you for Mister Boggins?”, “What did you talk about?”, “Did he mention Uncle? Is he evil?”, and more that the hobbit really could not be bothered coming up with an answer to.

So, staring pointedly at Fili and Kili, Bilbo shook his head and lay down, intending to fall asleep quickly and not rise until the company left. He’d been made aware of the group’s plans, and while he was not quite ready to leave either Gandalf or Rivendell, he was hardly in a position to give orders. The day was long, the next sure to be longer, and Bilbo was ready to shut his eyes and call it a night.

Expecting the boys to either continue pestering him or to leave him be, he closed his eyes and resolved to ignore them or bask in the quiet. What he did not expect was for the brothers to lay down on either side of him and reassure him that he “need not say anything now, Mister Boggins. We just hope that elven bastard didn’t hurt you,” before engulfing him in their grip and nodding off quickly to sleep.

And as he lay there, wrapped in two dwarves and probably warmer than was comfortable, Bilbo somehow felt more at peace than he had in days.

Falling asleep more rapidly than he expected, he missed the curious and somewhat gentle gaze of the dwarven leader on the three bodies, clustered close to each other and far from the other dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one will be thorin's POV! we will finally get some insight into his silly dwarf head.
> 
> unfortunately the next updates will likely come slower than before, i am overwhelmed w work and don't want to put out half-ass chapters, so i will work on my days off and come up with something good for you all!
> 
> please let me know what you think below and (kudos pls)!
> 
> new chapter maybe coming tomorrow bc i don't work or sometime after. i should probably have a schedule.
> 
> thank u for all the love! until next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin doesn't trust the burglar, unsure of his motivations for joining their group and of his gentle nature.
> 
> And for another reason, though that is only his to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thorin time! 
> 
> little shorter today

There were many things Thorin Oakenshield hated in this world. Dragons, of course, ranked number one on that list. Azog the Defiler was a close second. Arrogant men and gentlehobbits were on there as well, as well as goblins and orcs. But nothing was closer to being the most disliked by the dwarf than  _ elves.  _

And yet, here he was: in an elven stronghold, surrounded by the blasted things.

In the years to come Thorin would reflect on how deeply he underestimated the meddling of wizards.

He didn’t want to be here, but as much as he distrusted the fairer race and would rather be  _ anywhere  _ else, he was anything but a foolish leader. Thorin could see that his company was tired, worn down, and while he knew that most of them would rather be anywhere else as well he could not refuse them this moment of respite. And, according to Gandalf, he could learn a few things from the dark-haired elf while they were here anyways.

So, he dealt with it. Stewing in his hatred towards the creatures, though they were not the ones who betrayed him so long ago, he reflects on the happenings of the past few days. As he does so, his mind drifts unwillingly towards the newest member of his company.

Thorin hadn’t wanted to bring the hobbit along, and when he had found out how completely  _ useless  _ the creature seemed to be he had further regretted their agreement, as well as having trusted the wizard in his recommendation. Really, he should have learned by now that the old man did things the way he thought they ought to be done, often ignoring rational arguments against his choices and booming with an otherworldly power when someone did dare to speak against him.

But Thorin tried hard not to think too much of that. 

Regardless, the hobbit had certain… characteristics, that the others remained ignorant of. Characteristics that only Thorin knew of.

Thorin had been able to see auras for as long as he could remember, and he distantly knows he’s had the ability since he first came into this world. His mother said he was often overwhelmed as a dwarfling, constantly staring at those around him and marvelling at the light and color surrounding them. And his abilities were never a secret, either; to be speckled with stars was a great honor among the dwarves, and Thorin had never seen anything but praise for his stars and his powers from his kin. He had never faced anything but love regarding his constellations, and so he felt quite comfortable and open displaying them to any who crossed his path. Though he does remember some unfavorable human faces staring at his open collar, only to back away when meeting his eyes or the faces of his many companions. Few would choose to face a dwarven prince for a few stars, and even fewer a dwarven king - whether or not he still held his kingdom.

But the important fact here, and the one that made Thorin think of his stars and his powers in the first place (they were just a part of him, in the same way as his arms and legs - he rarely found himself thinking solely of their presence on his skin), was the fact that the newest member of their company was unlike any being Thorin had ever seen, had ever crossed paths with. Certainly the first that he had willingly invited, though that might be the wrong word, into his company.

The hobbit, Thorin knew,  _ had no aura. _

And when Thorin opened the door to his hobbit hole, what seemed so long ago, he had been so shocked and confused by the darkness of the night that persisted around the hobbit, absent of any light, that he barely noticed the sudden stiff posture of the hobbit, the sudden shock and then complete lack of expression on his face. He had merely thought him a typical representation of his race, too used to his gentle ways and too shocked to see a disgraced king on his stoop. Had he paid more attention, he would have noticed the lingering stares on the stars dotting his skin and the brief look of wonder in Bilbo’s eyes.

No one had ever claimed that Thorin was the most observant of dwarves.

Needless to say, Thorin was extremely wary of the creature, and before long he found himself regretting the addition to his company. Bilbo was too gentle, his complaining piercing Thorin’s ears for hours on end. He was plump, used to eating far more than the dwarves could afford on their short breaks. And besides all of that, besides the apparent tenderness of the hobbit;  _ he had no aura.  _ Thorin couldn’t read him the way he did everyone else, couldn’t determine his motivations for joining their company, couldn’t say that he was genuine in his earnestness to aid the group or if he was only in it for the gold at the end. Or worse, that he was aligned with someone who would prefer that the dwarven king  _ remain away  _ from his throne.

Simply put, Thorin held no love nor trust for the burglar.

Yet, as he thought of the burglar, he found himself realizing - not for the first time, though his thoughts on the hobbit were always hidden behind a fierce facade - that Bilbo had not, in fact, remained entirely useless throughout their adventure. Nor had he shown any desire to put the company in danger, to harm their cause. In fact, Thorin begrudgingly admitted that the hobbit had rather proved his devotion to the dwarves and to his place in their company.

When his scatter-brained nephews, often thick for all that Thorin had tried to teach them not to be, had all but thrown the hobbit into the grasp of three hungry trolls and risked the lives of their entire company, Thorin was infuriated. The entire group, their purpose, risked for the sake of a few ponies. For a halfling. And he didn’t know what to do with that anger. So, naturally, he threw it upon the first being he could think to blame in his mind-addled state, all but screaming at Bilbo as he berated him for his mistakes and that he shouldn’t have risked the lives of the company, thinking that he was right after all, that the hobbit intended to bring harm upon the group.

Thorin’s mind was foggy on the memory of what he had said to the hobbit, mind clouded as it was with rage. With his nephews, with the hobbit, worry (though Thorin wouldn’t admit it) for all three filling his mind. But the expression on the burglar’s face remained crystal clear in the dwarf’s head. And Thorin didn’t know what he’d said to hurt the hobbit so deeply, so much as to cause that look of pure devastation on Bilbo’s face. But his nephews stepped in to defend their friend and Thorin did nothing else, only stomping away and smashing the memory of the pain on that face as best as he could.

Of course, it didn’t really work. There was too much about that hobbit that Thorin couldn’t wrap his mind around. Too much he didn’t know, didn’t understand. Why did the hobbit refusee to roll up his sleeves or even show his ankles, pants always rolled down to the very top of his hairy feet? What did he have to hide? And if Thorin craved even a peek of that milky skin, well that was his business, thank you very much.

Snapping his mind back and reflecting on the trolls and the way that the hobbit had distracted the creatures, saving his own hide as well as the dwarves around him - and really, the burglar’s plan was obvious, and he found himself questioning the intelligence of those around him as he kicked none too gently and nodded towards the hobbit - Bilbo’s value, both in the company and outside of it, was only solidified in Thorin’s mind.

No, the hobbit was hardly useless at all. He was, indeed, a rather important member of the group. As Thorin thought more on the matter, he found less and less explanation for his behavior towards the creature. The mistrust was valid at the beginning of their journey but he could hardly justify his behavior now. He had proven his worth and was not at all likely to bring harm to the company except in efforts, however misguided, to aid them. Making his mind up, Thorin stood and became determined to find the creature, walking steadily to where he had seen the burglar disappear earlier.

As he moved closer, however, the sight of another with the hobbit stopped him.

Seeming not to have noticed the leader of their company, Bofur and Bilbo were wrapped in an intimate embrace, the hobbit all but burying himself in the broader body of his companion, shaking with what Thorin could only assume was mirth or joy. He didn’t know when this development had occurred, and while he should probably be happy or at least accepting of it - same sex pairings were not uncommon among dwarves, and if Bofur had found his One, he should be rejoicing for his friend - all that he could find was a cold feeling inside of his heart, grasping and clawing with a ferocity Thorin had never felt: not beside his grandfather’s deathbed, not on the fields of Moria.

Thorin had no explanation for the sudden freezing that seemed to engulf him on the sight of the two wrapped so closely in each other’s embrace. He couldn’t seem to stop himself as he marched towards them and ordered the other dwarf away, original intent entirely forgotten as he told Bofur to take over watch, not sure why but knowing he needed him away from Bilbo.

Turning around quickly he missed Bilbo’s shocked and then distraught face, as well as the concerned gaze of Bofur first directed towards the hobbit and then an angry one at the leader. He missed the way the hobbit’s arms wrapped around himself as he watched the two leave his spot. If he had turned around, seeing the state hi- _ the  _ hobbit was in, Thorin might have marched back over and enveloped Bilbo himself in his own arms. He didn’t have an explanation as to why.

No, the hobbit was not useless. He had a real purpose in the company, a real place among the wizard and dwarves. He proved his loyalty and his devotion. Thorin could not forget how he still knew so little of the hobbit, or the oddness of his missing aura, but he could no longer deny that Bilbo had earned his place within the company. 

But Thorin would be damned if he ever let anyone know that.

It was easier to maintain this facade, this apparent hatred of their hobbit. And maybe Thorin was wrong about the aura, maybe it meant more than he knew; he should still be cautious of Bilbo, really. And if it was simpler to ignore the cold hands gripping his heart, a frigid pain spreading out to the rest of him, then that's just how it had to be. 

Dwarves were very stubborn creatures, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there is some insight into why thorin acts like... that. wonder what the coldness he's talking about is... hmm...
> 
> and bilbo has no aura!!! what?! why can they see everyone else's but can't see each others? do they even have auras? what is the explanation? only time will tell :D
> 
> i hope you enjoyed, it might be a little bit until the next one as i have a full schedule this week :( but i rlly enjoy writing this and will get another chapter up as soon as i catch a break. 
> 
> let me know your thoughts! or if you think thorin is justified in his behavior - dwarves are bad at emotion.
> 
> until next time! thank you as always for the love! x


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company, minus one wizard, leave Rivendell.
> 
> Then, everyone almost dies.
> 
> Twice.

The next morning, rather early in Bilbo’s opinion, found the company departing from Rivendell. Minus the one grey wizard, though the hobbit had seen that one coming.

Bilbo didn’t know why Thorin and the others were of a mind to leave so urgently, except that they had likely had all they could take of elves and their fairness. He wasn’t in any place to insist they stay, either - he knew their hatred of elves as well as he knew their adventure was on a timeline. A very _short_ timeline, if he remembered what Balin discussed with him after the meeting, shortly before they departed.

The hobbit, trailing slowly behind the rest of the company, looked longingly back at the elven city as it shrunk far behind them. But, of course, he would say nothing. He had only just proved his capability to - well, most - of the company, and he wasn’t about to put that in the trash by professing his love for the elves and their beautiful creations in a company of dwarves. They could probably read his feelings from the expression he wore anyway, Bilbo reasoned.

He was close with most of the group now except, of course, the one who he wanted to be closest to. Although Bilbo was still in a semi-denial of his feelings towards the leader, he doubted it would stay that way for long. It was certainly easier to deny his admiration than to deal with the pain that the dwarf’s rejection would inevitably cause him. Had already caused him.

As the hobbit moved slowly forwards, lost in thoughts of dragon’s fire and the probably more painful death of dying of a broken heart, Bofur slowed and walked next to his friend.

“I see you’re still down, Bilbo. I wouldn’t worry if I was you, I’m certain the oaf will come around eventually,” Bofur spoke, quietly but doing his best to instill hope in his hobbit friend.

Bilbo nodded with a small smile at the dwarf, but he was quite sure that wasn’t true. He knew Thorin had faced a lot of loss in his long life, and if the hobbit was honest he wasn’t sure the dwarf would be willing to pursue anything with _anyone_ if he risked losing them. And besides, as if Thorin would ever look at Bilbo that way. A strong dwarf, falling for a clumsy-footed and round faced hobbit? It’s the stuff of stories. Bilbo would have to resign himself to that, to admire from afar. 

That is much easier said than done, unfortunately for the hobbit.

“I just can’t understand what I did to make him hate me so!” Bilbo complained quietly, looking towards the leader with a broken expression. “I almost thought he was warming up to me before, but now he won’t even look at me. Like I’m useless, like I don’t belong here!”

“Now listen here, Bilbo, of course you do.” Bofur had a stern but fond expression on his face as he faced the hobbit fully. “Don’t underestimate your value to this company nor the fondness we all hold for you, in one way or another. Dwarves have never been good at telling others how they feel, don’t take it personally Bilbo,” Bofur smiled and reassured the hobbit kindly.

Bilbo was about to respond, to thank the dwarf for his kind words and for dealing with his emotions, when the subject of their conversation marched towards them, grabbing Bofur’s arm and speaking quickly to him in a language Bilbo didn’t understand.

Of course the dwarves spoke Khuzdul to each other, but it had been a long time since any of them had felt the need to hide the nature of their conversation while with the hobbit. As Thorin spoke harshly and quickly in the stuttering tones of the dwarven language, Bofur looked shocked and then amusedly towards the leader, then Bilbo as he spoke a quick reply in the language and patted Thorin’s arm with a laugh. Moving away from Bilbo, he winked at the hobbit as he left.

Bilbo didn’t know what to make of dwarves, and he had no idea what Thorin could have said that made Bofur react that way. Maybe it was a joke only understood in Khuzdul, maybe dwarven reactions were different to those of hobbits. Bilbo resolved to forget the interaction.

So Bilbo and the company proceeded on their journey, eventually arriving in the mountains. Which, unfortunately, were not mountains at all. Rather, they were _stone giants._

And then everything, as Bilbo eloquently put it, went to utter shit.

~

He was hanging off the side of the mountain, or giant, facing his death and thinking that well, at least he won’t have to deal with the stubbornness of dwarves when a large hand appeared and tugged Bilbo back up towards the cliff edge. As he rose over the side he was met with the seething face of Thorin Oakenshield, relieved faces of his friends forgotten after the utter rage that encompassed the dwarf’s face.

Thorin was shouting, on about how Bilbo didn’t belong and that he was endangering the company, that he should never have left his home. Bilbo could hardly hear him, the shock of his own near-death ringing in his ears.

And Bilbo didn’t understand it, if Thorin hated him so much then why would he care if he died? Expect that then he’d have to deal with his friends stuck mourning their dear hobbit, and while Bilbo felt comforted that someone would miss him after all he was all but broken in two by the thought of the one he lo-liked feeling only inconvenienced by his passing.

It was with that thought in mind that Bilbo found himself packing his things quietly in the shelter of the cave the company had taken refuge in, planning to go right back to Rivendell and to stay there until he could find an escort home. He knew where he wasn’t wanted, and if anyone missed him they would really be better off in the long run anyway. 

And maybe the reason Bilbo was leaving was a bit more selfish than that; he couldn’t bear to stare Thorin in the face any longer and know that his affections were entirely unreciprocated. Bilbo had long since stopped caring about the lack of aura surrounding the dwarf. If he looked hard enough, he could almost see something similar dancing in Thorin’s eyes, anyway. He just couldn’t stand to stare at those stars and know he could never tell the dwarf about his own.

So he was leaving. Stepping towards the opening of the cave, Bilbo spared one last glance at his admired and his other friends, dancing auras surrounding them even in sleep, wishing them the best of luck in his mind and that their adventure would be a success despite his absence.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Bilbo froze, turning slowly and meeting Bofur’s curious and sad eyes on his small figure.

“I, uhm, I just - Yavanna, I have to leave, Bofur. I have no place here.” Bilbo looked determinedly at the heartbroken expression the dwarf now wore. “You know what Thorin thinks, I’m too gentle, too soft. I need to leave so that all of you may succeed. I need my books, my armchair,” Bilbo stepped closer to the dwarf upon seeing his face fall further. “I do wish you all the best of luck though, Bofur. Truly.” 

Bofur cracked a smile, however small, at that and patted the hobbit on the arm. “As do I, Bilbo. Many of us have not known a home as you do,” he smiled sadly again at the hobbit. “I wish you all the luck in the world.”

Before Bilbo could say anything back, thanking Bofur for his understanding, thanking him for letting him leave as he knew others would not have done, when a soft glow interrupted him.

He looked at his sword and remembered vaguely something Gandalf had said about the blue glow it would sometimes emit, a glow that only occurred when…

_Oh Yavanna._

“Goblins,” Bilbo spoke quietly, a look of dread on his face, barely registering how Thorin jumped up and woke the company as the floor fell out from under the group, dropping them into the darkness below.

~

Stumbling out of the dark cavern into the blinding daylight outside, Bilbo nearly missed the group of dwarves sprinting away as he reoriented himself, the ring he’d stolen (found) from the disturbed creature in the cave fitting perfectly on his finger. He rather liked it, and the fact that it somehow turned him invisible was only a plus.

Still with the ring on, Bilbo stumbled happily and somewhat deliriously towards the company, the wizard having joined the group in the caves at some point. He almost revealed himself then and there, too overjoyed to see the group whole and _alive,_ when the voice of their leader stopped him.

“...He’s gone back to his hobbit hole, he’s left while he still can. He realized he has no place among us. He’s thought of nothing but his warm hearth and soft bed since he’s left them. There is no denying it; the halfling is long gone.”

Bilbo could hardly see he was so blinded by rage.

Barely letting the dwarf finish, Bilbo all but ripped off the ring ( _his_ ring) as he stepped out from behind the tree, announcing loudly and perhaps a bit too smugly, from the looks of the company, that “ _No._ He isn’t.”

Receiving the grins and embraces of his friends, Kili and Fili hugging him strongest of all, the hobbit barely realized the question the latter directed him upon releasing Bilbo from his embrace.

“How on earth did you get past the goblins?”  
  
And Bilbo was really much too tired to come up with an excuse any of them would believe, so with a smile and a shrug he slipped the ring in his pocket. He was never so grateful for Gandalf as when the wizard seemed to notice his struggle, simply saying that he was glad the hobbit is back, what did it matter how that was?

But Thorin was not so kind. As he regarded the hobbit, face as sheepish as a dwarf’s could be at being overheard, he asked him again why he did come back. Why he decided to continue risking his life for the sake of the company.

Bilbo had no problem finding an answer for this question. Thinking of his home, his warm hearth, his soft bed, it came to him as easily as a bee to a flower.

“I know that you doubt me, that you always have. And I do miss Bag End; my books, my armchair, my hearth. My home,” he continued despite the unnerving stare the leader directed his way. “That’s why I came back. Because you don’t have one; a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back, if I can.”

The company had gone silent, everyone staring at Bilbo with a new light in their eyes and auras, excluding Thorin, of course. Even those Bilbo had grown closest to seemed to regard the hobbit with a newfound respect, grateful of his dedication and unaware that he had been so serious of his intention to help win back the Lonely Mountain.

Thorin himself looked down, stern expression vanishing from his face and being replaced with something softer, something Bilbo almost _wished_ was directed at him, that Thorin would pick his eyes up and look at the hobbit instead of at the dirt.

But his thoughts drifted quickly as the piercing howl of wargs filled the air around the company. He heard the brief exchange between wizard and dwarf as the company prepared to bolt upon hearing the sound.

“Out of the frying pan…”

“...And into the fire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! i took a lot of dialouge, especially towards the end, directly from the film. i really like the way some of those interactions worked so i just put em in!
> 
> next chapter there will likely be an interesting reveal! and more action. woohoo maybe bilbo and thorin will finally get their shit together!
> 
> (maybe)
> 
> anyway i hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think below!
> 
> until next time :D x


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin nearly dies, then doesn't, and really Bilbo is the one to thank.

All too soon and barely remembering how he got there, Bilbo was nearly falling off a low-hanging tree branch on the edge of what was sure to be his end when Dori’s small hand reached and pulled him up. Just out of the sharp grip of the warg’s teeth, Bilbo scrambled into the tree, the warg beneath him letting out a growl that shook him to his core. 

Bilbo and the rest of the company were screwed, to put it simply. Backed up to the edge of a cliff, hiding in the dry pines was their only retreat and the hobbit knew that orcs would likely (absolutely) outlast the company like this. He couldn’t see all of the group from where he crouched in the branches but he could only hope they were all okay, could only hope they had all climbed into the trees without being mauled by orcs and their beasts.

He flashed back to discussing wargs and orcs with Fili and Kili so long ago; he remembered talking about how their bite was no joke, that no laughter could be wrought from the sharpness of their maw.

That fear, it was only too real and too true now that he was living it.

But they did have a wizard in their midst, after all, and as Bilbo looked in the direction of the wizard’s shout a burning pine cone was suddenly flying into his hands, and he could do nothing but toss it towards the beasts below. Seeing his dwarven companions do the same, Bilbo continued tossing the burning projectiles, and soon the wargs were whimpering and cowering back to their masters. They had done it! They were safe!

Except that the trees were slowly catching in the blaze as well, tumbling down one after the other and bringing the company closer and closer to the beasts below. Lighting a dry forest on fire may not have been the best idea after all.

And as Bilbo thought it could really get no worse, a shout sounded from a dwarf in the tree next to him.  _ Thorin was still alive.  _ Momentarily put at ease by the fact, Bilbo looked towards the clearing where a new orc was emerging, somehow different,  _ more  _ than the beasts surrounding him. It was towards this orc that Thorin’s shout was directed, and Bilbo could do nothing but stare slack-jawed as Thorin climbed from the fallen branches and storm towards the pale orc, oaken shield raised (and really, what a fitting epithet) and sword ready to plunge into the creature.

Only he didn’t get that far.

None of the dwarves, Bilbo, or Gandalf could do anything but scream as the pale orc’s warg bit harshly into the fallen king’s torso, clean through his rusty armor and drawing a wretched yelp from Thorin as he fell from the beast’s open jaw.

It was then that Bilbo felt his very soul shatter, life seeming to leave him just as it was surely leaving the dwarf, who now lay still on the ground. Bilbo couldn’t see his face.

Miles away from his body, Bilbo heard the orc speak to his companion, gesturing towards the dwarf and Bilbo could not bear it. He could not bear what the orcs would do. Hardly feeling in control of his own body, he drew Sting from its scabbard and ran from the tree, ignoring the shouts of the others and charging towards the orc slowly approaching Thorin amidst the gazes of his leader and pack.

Bilbo would not let him. He would not allow the dwarf to die like this. 

Plunging his sword into the orc’s midsection, Bilbo felt no regret but only pure satisfaction as he watched the mangled aura surrounding the creature fade into nothing, as he watched those black eyes slip shut. It was then he understood how one could kill without remorse. If it meant Thorin would live, Bilbo would tear down anyone who threatened the dwarf’s life without a second thought. Even if it meant risking his own.

Wrenching his sword from the fallen orc with a heave, he heard a wet gasp from the dwarf behind him but he wouldn’t dare turn around, didn’t know if he could handle seeing the destroyed body of the one who he loved. And it was an odd time for such a revelation, but Bilbo couldn’t find it in himself to care. The pain he felt among seeing Thorin near death could not be explained any other way, as though his heart was being torn out of his chest and then cut in two. 

Bilbo didn’t want to think about what it would feel like if Thorin died. He didn’t know if he could bear the suffering that would cause him.

Still standing protectively in front of Thorin, Bilbo glowered, however shakily, at the pale orc in front of him and found that he was ready. Ready to die, ready to lay his life down for that of Thorin’s. He would do so without regret.

As the orc advanced, staring with shock but also a twisted amusement at the hobbit in front of him, Bilbo resigned himself to his inevitable death. A one off shot on an unprepared orc was one thing; he did not fool himself into thinking he could take on Azog the Defiler alone.

Not even Thorin was able to do so.

As it turns out, fortunately, Bilbo would not have to.

The rest of the company suddenly swarmed from the trees, chopping and slashing orcs and wargs with a ferocity Bilbo had not yet been witness to, the dwarves seemingly spurred on by the state of their leader and by Bilbo’s courage. 

He joined the fight, slashing with all of his might and resolving to survive, only so he could see Thorin’s face alive and well one last time. He told himself that the alternative was not an option: that he would not allow it to become an option.

Gandalf was absent, and Bilbo wondered how he always seemed to disappear right when they needed him most when a pair of massive wings appeared above him, claws grasping the limp body of the dwarven leader and taking him away from the cliff, away from  _ Bilbo.  _ He was panicked, screaming, “ _ No! _ You can’t take him!” when a pair of different talons picked him up, then dropped him, to his terror, onto a pair of different wings. He realized with a sudden shock that he was flying, and on the back of a giant eagle, nonetheless.

Maybe wizards were quite good company to have on adventures, after all. 

Though Bilbo never really doubted this.

But as he stared at Thorin’s body, flying only metres away from him, still grasped tightly in the giant eagle’s talons, Bilbo could hardly find it in himself to be relieved. He doubted he could ever be, not until he had proof of Thorin’s life, not until he saw the light enter those blue eyes once more. And the hobbit hardly thought of the fact his love went unreciprocated; he had decided as soon as he saw the lifeless body of the dwarf that he could live a million lifetimes loving him without being loved in return if it meant Thorin would live. If he could see that smile on his face, even while it was directed at another. 

~

They arrived at the Carrock faster than Bilbo expected, the eagle he’d been riding suddenly landing on the rock with a thud. He slid off its back and walked quickly to the others, surrounding the body of their leader and wondering with no small level of dread if he really had passed, if the dwarf had gone without being able to say goodbye.

Just as he neared the others, however, the familiar voice of the dwarf filled the air, and Bilbo hardly recognized that he was saying his name amidst the emotions suddenly filling his body. Relief, fear, joy, resignment.

“Where is the burglar? Where is  _ Bilbo? _ ”

And he was back. Walking towards the dwarf, Bilbo expected a thanks, a small show of gratitude. He did not expect to be welcomed, of course, and certainly not for the dwarf to be indebted to him. He had saved Thorin out of selfishness, after all. Bilbo did not think he’d be able to go on if the dwarf passed.

What he did not expect, however, was for Thorin to immediately begin scolding the hobbit as he saw him, shouting about uselessness and halflings and that Bilbo should have never come on this adventure, that he should have stayed in Bag End. That he didn’t belong.

And Bilbo knew the dwarf didn’t like him, but as he stood still and received the berating he wondered at how deep Thorin’s hatred seemed to run. As Bilbo stood, sorrow-filled expression on the ground as the dwarf’s own fiery one remained focused on the hobbit, he wondered at how deeply the pain from his words struck. Bilbo wondered if he really would be able to go on like this - Thorin alive but despising him so. He was in the midst of these musings when a sentence from Thorin struck him silent and gaping, gaze snapping quickly back to the dwarf.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life,” Thorin said with a smile,  _ that  _ smile, directed only towards the hobbit. Only for Bilbo.

Then the dwarf’s arms were wrapped around the hobbit, Bilbo nestling his face in the dwarf’s neck and Bilbo felt like he was on fire. All around him was  _ Thorin Thorin Thorin  _ and he didn’t believe he’d ever felt that much peace, that immutable sense of  _ home  _ as when he hugged the dwarf back. Bilbo could almost feel the dwarf’s stars brushing against his own, still hidden under his thick clothes. They left streaks of burning fire on his skin.

But it was over nearly as soon as it had begun, Thorin pulling back to regard the hobbit warmly from an arm’s distance, warm hands still pressed firmly to the hobbit’s shoulders. Bilbo could do nothing but smile and nod, saying that he had no other choice, really, that he had no other option.

“I could have done nothing else.”

The other dwarves were smiling at the pair, as if to say  _ finally,  _ when one of the company points in the distance at a lonely peak, rising high above the ground and standing imposing over the landscape. That was it.

“The Lonely Mountain. Erebor,” Thorin said, smiling at his home and then at the hobbit by his side.

~

Thorin was gazing at Bilbo beside him, eyes full of something close to adoration as he regarded the smaller being. Bilbo had risked his life for Thorin’s own when none of his own kin had thought to do so; Thorin was well aware that the hobbit did not know it, but by doing so Bilbo had guaranteed that Thorin would owe a life debt to the hobbit for as long as he lived.

Strangely, the dwarf found he did not mind that much. The idea of spending a lifetime with Bilbo, protecting him as though he were his own, was not so hard to stomach as he thought it could be.

(Though really, Thorin didn’t ever think it’d be that difficult).

His emotions having done a 180 - or at least the way he decided to deal with them - Thorin decided as soon as Bilbo jumped in front of him in the forest to stop denying his feelings, to treat the hobbit as he knew he deserved and with nothing but respect. Maybe something a bit more, should Bilbo feel receptive to his advances.

If anyone deserved it, it was Bilbo.

And the freezing hands on his heart had eased, their cold grip fading at the awed look in Bilbo’s eyes as he looked to the peak in the distance. 

Thorin was content, both in his resolution to change his behavior towards the hobbit and in that he did not want to ignore those peculiar feelings he felt, after all. As he was scanning the smaller being for injuries, he was pleased to see that Bilbo was relatively unscathed, nothing but a scratch on his collar that exposed a strip of his always-hidden throat, and - 

_ Oh! Oh.  _

What Thorin saw there was something he never expected to see on the hobbit’s clear skin.

It wasn’t as if Thorin had never wondered  _ why  _ the hobbit always covered his skin. He assumed it was a modesty thing, that hobbits had different standards than dwarves (however foolish those standards were). But here was his answer, clear as day, shining on Bilbo’s skin. And maybe Thorin wouldn’t have noticed it but for the fact he had a matching one on his own neck.

Right there, on Bilbo’s throat, sat a star. A shining, gleaming  _ star,  _ on the hobbit’s body. Arcturus, if Thorin correctly remembered the names taught to him when he was a dwarfling.

Thorin didn’t know what to think.

Well, that’s not entirely true. One thought ran rampant through his mind as he looked quickly away from the hobbit, not willing to divulge his awareness of Bilbo’s stars quite yet.

_ “Why did he never tell me?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE KNOWS! woo! but bilbo doesn't know it... yet...
> 
> thank you for all the love on the last chapter! it helped pull me out of some writer's block so i hope you all like this one just as much :D
> 
> i don't work as much this coming week so i should be able to crank out more updates (regularly) than usual. we'll see, i'll do my best!
> 
> as always feel free to leave thoughts below. hope you enjoyed :D x


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is different, but Bilbo isn't sure it's in a good way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps i am starting next chapter now and should be up tomorrow - hopefully!

A while after Thorin had embraced the hobbit, declaring his respect as well as approval of the hobbit among those in the company, the leader declared that they rest a bit before they move on towards the lonely peak. Azog and his orcs still pursued them, but they surely had a bit of a head start before the pack came upon them. They did fly several kilometres away via  _ eagle,  _ after all.

But as Bilbo sat with Fili and Kili, appraising their minor wounds and assuring them he would  _ not  _ go jumping in front of an orc again (“ _ lest you _ perish _ , Master Boggins, and we can’t have that _ ”), he found that it was more difficult to rest than he assumed. And if that had to do with the fact that Thorin was not sitting with the three, well, then was that really so bad?

Not to say that the dwarven leader had gone back to his old ways: far from it, in fact. Thorin now smiled openly at the hobbit, spoke to him in the off-handed way he did the others, asked him for his opinion on things (like when they should make to leave the base of the Carrock, what path would be the easiest to traverse. The dwarf had made a real effort to change his ways, Bilbo knew, and the hobbit nearly found himself basking in the attention Thorin paid him.

But there’s still something there. Something that is different in the way Thorin treated Bilbo, different from Gandalf and the rest of the company. Something reserved, like the dwarf was afraid of letting something slip, that he knew something Bilbo didn’t. The hobbit had no idea of what that could be, of course, only that he wished Thorin would just  _ say  _ it and stop this awkward dance he was doing around Bilbo - too polite, too kind, too quiet. Like Bilbo was a houseguest Thorin didn’t know what to do with.

Sometimes Bilbo catches Thorin staring at him, intent on something the hobbit was doing, what he was wearing, who he was with. But as soon as Bilbo caught him the dwarf’s eyes shot away abruptly and he busied himself with someone else, something else to occupy his attentions. Bilbo 

could only look on, unable to say anything for fear of the leader reverting to how he used to be.

Bilbo isn’t sure he could handle it.

Though maybe these things just take time. Thorin had spent all of the journey up to the events with Azog blatantly voicing his hatred and disapproval for the hobbit, after all. The hobbit reasoned that one thing couldn’t entirely switch the dwarf’s feelings about Bilbo from hatred to adoration, of course. 

Though Bilbo rather wished things worked like that. It would make his life a thousand times easier.

And in the back of his mind he hoped that Thorin didn’t feel inclined to treat Bilbo with kindness because the hobbit had nearly sacrificed his life for his. He knew a little of dwarven customs, and a life-debt was one Balin had made him familiar with long before the events on the cliff. Staring at the leader, Bilbo wished resolutely that dwarven customs were not the reason for Thorin’s behavior. To be hated is one thing, but to be tolerated only due to a debt is quite another. 

Bilbo rather thought he’d prefer the first option. To think that Thorin’s admiration came only from a need to retain tradition was infinitely more painful than believing the dwarf honestly couldn’t stand him.

But Bilbo was surrounded by dwarves, most of whom possessed intimate knowledge of dwarven customs and traditions. One dwarf in particular was an expert on debts, on what should happen when another gives their life for yours - should the other party survive such an event. Yes, he’d do quite nicely.

With this in mind, Bilbo walked towards where the elder dwarf sat, politely asking Balin if he had a moment or two to discuss something, erm, concerning their leader. Balin had a disturbingly knowing look on his face as he nodded and walked with Bilbo to a shaded copse away from the rest of the group.

“Now, I knew that you possessed a certain… shall we say… affinity, for our leader, though I confess I did not expect you to come to me so soon,” Balin started, a smile on his face as he looked towards the hobbit.

Staring blankly at the dwarf, the meaning of his words took rather too long to hit the hobbit. When it did, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

Really, this is  _ not  _ what Bilbo had been expecting. He blushed with an intensity that colored his cheeks all the way down to his covered chest, and stuttered out a quick response to Balin.

“Uhm! Uh-no, no, Balin, that is not quite why I asked you to speak with me,” he looked at the ground as he spoke to the dwarf, too embarrassed to meet his gaze, knowing Balin would likely see the look within the hobbit’s own eyes if he met it.

The dwarf looked disappointed, and Bilbo spoke quickly so as to ease the expression on his face. “I do wish to discuss Master Oakenshield, of course! Only that my affections for him are not the topic I mean to speak with you of, is all.” Bilbo finished, smiling sheepishly at the dwarf.

But Balin looked like he understood. He smiled again, facing the hobbit bodily and asking what it was Bilbo wanted to talk about.

Their conversation flowed easily, Bilbo asking about Thorin’s behavior and Balin answering as best he could. He told Bilbo that Thorin did likely feel he was indebted to the hobbit due to his life-saving actions, but also that Thorin would not treat him differently solely because of that debt.

“Thorin is not the kind of dwarf to change his behavior based on tradition.”

And so Balin couldn’t produce an explanation for the reason  _ why  _ Thorin would act this way with their hobbit, why he would be open and kind but still a step away, still tucking a part of himself away from Bilbo. And if Balin didn’t know, Bilbo knew there was really only one person to ask.

The dwarf himself.

~

Unfortunately, getting the dwarf alone and for long enough for Bilbo to ask him about his behavior was much easier said than done. No matter when Bilbo sought Thorin out, the leader always seemed to escape his grasp with a second to spare. He didn’t run from the hobbit, of course, but made poor excuses with a nod to the hobbit as he briskly walked away. That he had to help his nephews with the ponies, wouldn’t want them to escape again! Or that Bombur really needed his help with the stew, the fact that Thorin was an awful cook seeming to go ignored for the time being.

Bilbo really didn’t know what to think, let alone what he should do.

He had barely begun a relationship with Thorin, and now the dwarf seemed to want nothing to do with him. The thought that the dwarf  _ did  _ still hate Bilbo, just had to hide it now because the hobbit saved his life, suddenly struck the burglar. Was he forcing this on Thorin? Had their camaraderie been a farce, an act to save face? Bilbo didn’t know, and he hoped it was not true, but he couldn’t very well get an answer from, well…  _ anyone. _

Balin didn’t seem to understand Thorin’s behavior and thus could not provide an explanation, Bilbo couldn’t get Thorin alone long enough to ask him anything (and he doubted the dwarf would give him a real answer in the first place), and frankly the hobbit didn’t know who else to turn to.

As he stood with the company, watching Thorin’s retreating back as he walked away from his questions  _ again  _ with yet another excuse, Bilbo noticed a pair of eyes on him. Gandalf’s scheming gaze, fraught with amusement, was focused on the hobbit’s frustrated face and Thorin’s figure a few feet away.

Maybe he had an idea of who to ask after all.

Walking towards the wizard, Bilbo asked him politely but with a certain sternness in his eyes, if he would talk with him a moment, to discuss a certain someone.

Gandalf only smiled, a certain gleam in his grey eyes as he nodded at Bilbo.

Moving away from the group, who were now preparing to leave - the sun had nearly risen at this point - Bilbo questioned Gandalf on the dwarf’s behavior with fervor, asking him if he knew the reason behind Thorin’s odd actions, weird mannerisms with Bilbo.

And of course, Gandalf had little to say.

“I have simply no idea what you mean, dear fellow,” Gandalf said with a seemingly-genuine smile (and Bilbo would have believed it if not for the prominent notes of amusement in the wizard’s aura). “I have noticed no change in the dwarf’s behavior, except for the better! And somehow I doubt you would be concerned about such a shift.”

Raising his bushy eyebrow at the hobbit, Gandalf all but smirked and Bilbo blushed, wished he had never asked the wizard his opinion or if he knew anything.

Stuttering out a “ _ Nevermind,  _ Gandalf,” Bilbo returned to the company quickly and mounted his pony, following the others as they departed from the Carrock’s base. He would have to wait another while before he could get to the bottom of the dwarf’s behavior, Bilbo thought with resignment. Well, worse things could happen, he supposed.

~

Really, this isn’t what Bilbo envisioned when he said worse things could happen.

Azog and his orcs were on their tail, yes - Bilbo could see them across the valley from his vantage point behind some rocks, and they were indeed  _ very  _ close to the group, Bilbo thought with terror. He didn’t particularly fancy dealing with the pale orc again any sooner than he had to. And, unfortunately, Bilbo knew that he would likely have to at some point. He dreaded to think of the revenge the beast would wreak on him, would enact for stealing his prize dwarven kill from his grasp.

  
  


But that wasn’t what concerned the hobbit the most right now. As terrifying as those orcs were, the company had known they were on their trail and so Bilbo wasn’t as shocked to see them there. Thorin had made preparations, was still injured but ensured the others were as battle-ready as ever, as prepared for an attack as the best of dwarven armies.

The orcs were fearsome, but so were dwarves and so that was not what worried the hobbit. No, what worried Bilbo was the giant  _ something  _ lurking some metres behind the orcs, tall and hulking, great yellow eyes gleaming in the night and focused on - 

_ Oh.  _

No, the orcs were decidedly  _ not  _ the most worrying thing facing the company at this moment in time.

Climbing quickly down from his spot in the rocks as to tell the company what he’d seen - and perhaps to avoid the glowing yellow eyes that had been zeroed in on his figure - Bilbo nearly fell in his haste to return to the group. Because he needed to share his information, of course. It had nothing to do with the terror that filled him upon seeing the giant creature. Nothing at all.

And thoughts of Thorin occupied his mind but they were hardly at the forefront of importance right now - Bilbo would have to wait,  _ again,  _ until he could confront the stubborn being. Waiting never killed anyone, the hobbit supposed. Right?

He quickly informs Gandalf and the dwarves about what he’d seen; the close proximity of Azog and his orcs as well as the giant (bear?) that was much closer, and that had seen Bilbo watching him.

To say the company’s reactions were pleasant might have been stretching the truth a little.

(Or a lot.)

But as the dwarves were all but shouting, likely alerting the beast and the orcs of their position, Gandalf raised his hand and glared at the others until they went silent. In the silence, he mentioned he had a friend of sorts that lived around where they were, that they could find shelter in his home til morning.

“And who is this friend? How do we know he’ll take us?” Nori asked, noting that Gandalf had said nothing about what happens after the company rises. When they would meet their host.

“Dear Bilbo has already met our host,” Gandalf, started, looking grimly at the group, “And there is no telling if he’ll keep us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update!
> 
> next chapter will be more thorin/bilbo!
> 
> i hope you enjoy, thank you for the love (100 kudos!!!) and please leave thoughts/comments below!
> 
> until next time :D x


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo confronts Thorin, but was entirely surprised by what the dwarf had to say.
> 
> Unfortunately, things don't exactly go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you go... you asked for it!

Azog and his orcs on their tail, the company sprinted full speed towards the lonely not-very-little cabin across the way, not having met their host but willing to risk their luck with the creature if it meant they did not have to face the beasts behind them.

And they were indeed very close behind them, so close that Bilbo could almost feel the wet pants of the wargs across his back.

But still they ran, some faster than others and the hobbit barely had time to wonder at the speed of Bombur’s sprint when he felt a warm hand on his back, urging his slowing speed and shouting for him to continue on, that he couldn’t stop now. Bilbo didn’t realize he was falling behind, lagging behind the others until the dwarf pointed it out. He gasped out a thanks for the push, forcing himself to run faster and glancing quickly towards his savior.

Thorin only nodded and yelled out his own “Just keep going,” sprinting ahead but glancing back every so often as if to make sure the hobbit wasn’t too far away, not too close to the bloody grasp of the wargs behind them. Bilbo felt reassured by this, in the midst of their mad dash for the house, and told himself he’d go to the dwarf as soon as he was sure they were safe, inside the house (Beorn’s house, if Bilbo remembered the name Gandalf had told them correctly) or elsewhere: should their host not be as welcoming as the wizard hoped.

But it was their only option right now and Bilbo ran harder, gasping and limbs aching from exertion, onto the land surrounding the house. Everything was giant, bigger than would be suited for even the wizard and Bilbo felt rather dwarfed by his large surroundings. He watched on in horrified suspense as the dwarves struggled to close the wooden gate and then felt a stilted relief as he heard the bodies of the orcs and wargs slam into it not five seconds after it had been bolted. He wondered momentarily if the gate was enough to stop the bloodthirsty company of orcs, however sure Gandalf seemed to be of their host, the skinchanger, who guarded this realm. But, again, it wasn’t as if the group had any other choice.

So they stepped, however warily, into their host’s home and Bilbo felt even more miniscule in comparison to his surroundings than he had outside. All around him sat giant chairs, cups, beds, and food that Bilbo wasn’t even sure  _ he  _ could finish. At least the company wouldn’t go hungry, Bilbo reasoned, hoping against hope that their host would be agreeable and allow them to stay at least until the orcs were drawn away.

Sitting by the fireplace, trying not to think about how it would literally engulf him if he stood too close, Bilbo tried to bring his mind off of orcs and the upcoming struggles that were sure to face the company. It was really inevitable that his thoughts strayed once again to their leader, the stone-faced dwarf who treated Bilbo differently than he used to but not the same as the others. The hobbit wanted nothing more to speak to Thorin, but the others were eating and as Bilbo joined them around the large table, eyes on the dwarf, he told himself the discussion could wait until after dinner.

And it was supposed to happen after dinner. But as Bilbo sat, sated and just a little bit tipsy off the honey-sweet mead he’d had his share of, he realized the leader was nowhere to be seen. 

The other members of the company, Gandalf included, all remained around the oaken table, faces flushed with mead and enjoying the brief respite from their adventure, however short it was likely to be. He expected to see Thorin among them, laughing with his companions and taking comfort in their joy, only that he wasn’t there. Wasn’t in the house at all, Bilbo observed, as he looked around the room and saw only bees surrounding the rest of the dwarves and Gandalf.

As he asked the others if they'd seen the leader only to be met with frowns and different denials of Thorin’s whereabouts, he thought absentmindedly that the leader was  _ avoiding  _ him, and really, the nerve of the dwarf! It wasn’t like Bilbo was hunting him down to hurt him or anything of the sort; he really only wanted to  _ talk.  _

Of course, Bilbo knew that talking was not exactly one of Thorin’s strong suits. It seemed that brooding quietly and avoiding his problems were his preferred methods of going through things.

_ Well, not today, Master Dwarf,  _ Bilbo thought to himself as he exited the house, looking around the garden for Thorin’s broad figure. If no one would tell him where the dwarf was he would just have to find him himself, damnit. It wasn’t as if the dwarf had anywhere to hide, really - they were, quite literally, trapped within the confines of Beorn’s garden walls.

As he surveyed the garden, giant bees brushing just a little too close, Bilbo saw him.

Thorin sat quietly, among the various flowers and plants in Beorn’s garden, looking above at the stars. Bilbo spared a moment to admire how the constellations in the sky reflected against the ones in Thorin’s skin, only seeming to shine brighter against the light of their counterparts in his skin.

And Bilbo wished he could do the same, that he could bare his skin to the sky and see how the stars in the sky augmented the glow of his own, how they looked highlighted against the light of the moon and all the constellations in the sky. As his mind drifted, the hobbit didn’t think he’d ever envied anyone more than he did Thorin at that moment.

But it was impossible, of course. Bilbo, for as long as he was with the company and likely for all of his life, would be unable to show his own lights their partners in the cosmos. He was unable to show anyone his stars, as much as he yearned for them to see the night sky outside of his bedroom window. And it had been months since he’d been able to do even that, living as he had been on the road with the others.

The hobbit knew that his secret wouldn’t mean his death in current company, but the trauma of what it meant to reveal his stars to others was all too fresh in his mind and he wouldn’t risk it, not even to the one he loved. He knew that Thorin would never feel the same, in the first place, and if he had gone this long without telling anyone then he knew it was too late.

To reveal his secret now, so long after he had met the dwarves, might be seen as a betrayal, as a sign that Bilbo didn’t trust the group fully and that they weren’t deserving to know of his stars. And when Thorin shared the same markings as Bilbo, he was sure the concealment of his condition would be doubly hurtful to the leader in particular. Bilbo wasn’t willing to jeopardize those relationships, the friendships he’d made, just for the sake of some glowing dots on his skin. No matter how much he wished he could. No matter how much he wished he could open his stifling collar and let his stars open to the night air next to Thorin.

He just couldn’t.

Shaking his head and vowing to clear those wishful thoughts from his mind, Bilbo moved closer to the dwarf and sat quietly next to him in the plush green grass. Rather than staring at the stars, Bilbo focused his gaze on Thorin, pleading silently with him to share his thoughts, his feelings with the hobbit. Thorin spoke without looking at him.

“Why did you never say anything?”

And maybe it was the mead, of which Bilbo might have had more than strictly was his share, or maybe it was the look of distress on Thorin’s face, but Bilbo had absolutely no idea what the dwarf meant or how to respond.

But he could see the dwarf was feeling fragile and so he tried to gently probe the reason for the question out of Thorin’s stubborn self, asking him hesitantly, “I’m sorry, Master Oakenshield, but I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean…?”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, Bilbo realized, as Thorin sighed and continued to stare at anything but the hobbit as he spoke. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? The stars.”

The mead must have been getting to Bilbo’s head, he thought. There was no other explanation for Thorin’s stilted, odd sentences, that didn’t make any sense and what relevance did stars have to their conversation again? Thorin couldn’t be talking about his own, Bilbo knew, and the hobbit didn’t really take him for an astronomer type of dwarf.

So he did nothing but furrow his brow and shrug, saying “Yes…?” as Thorin sighs again and points out that they all live on his skin, that for every star in their galaxy he has a matching copy on his body, doesn’t Bilbo know?

And _ yes,  _ thank you, he does, the hobbit having to tear his eyes from Thorin’s stars even now as they glow brightly on his skin, something sad seeming to shine within their light. Bilbo doesn’t have time to wonder what that might mean as he nods quickly towards the dwarf. “Yes, I noticed,” he spoke with a dry tone. It was quite hard  _ not  _ to.

But then Thorin’s making no sense again, facing Bilbo fully and telling the hobbit in a crestfallen voice, “I wish you would’ve told me. I know I haven’t made it easy, and I am to blame for your unease in revealing your secret, Bilbo.” He stared at the hobbit as Bilbo sat quietly, waiting for a response but getting none.

The hobbit was really,  _ really,  _ confused now, and he was certain by now the mead had gotten to his own head and probably to Thorin’s as well. Though, he thinks briefly, he can’t recall seeing the dwarf take even one sip from the large flagon that sat in front of him during the meal earlier.

But there’s no other explanation for his odd behavior, and Bilbo can do nothing but stare with confusion at the dwarf as he tries to figure out what he’s trying to say, what Bilbo has done wrong. As he does so Thorin stares pointedly at the collar of his shirt, and the hobbit wonders if he’d spilled something on it during dinner when Thorin all but growls at the obliviousness of hobbits and reaches his large hands to the hobbit’s throat.

Bilbo wonders for a moment if the dwarf is going to kill him.

But then Thorin’s hands are at the buttons of his shirt and  _ wow  _ Bilbo had really gotten that one wrong, was nearly losing himself in the feel of Thorin’s hands on his skin when a small voice in his mind reminds him of his stars and his eyes fly open, hands going to Thorin’s on his skin and ripping them off, but it’s too late.

His stars are as visible as Thorin’s own, gleaming in the night and seeming to shine even brighter in the face of the dwarf’s own constellations. 

The hobbit is terrified and sad and angry all at the same time, mouth opening and closing and eyes eventually moving to the dwarf, expecting to see shock on the dwarf’s face - or something more dangerous.

When he sets his eyes on Thorin’s face, he sees none of those emotions. Where he expected to see anger at being lied to, shock at having been deceived, the dwarf has only a resigned, kind of sad expression on his typically stony face.

Bilbo thinks quickly back to what Thorin had been saying before,  _ why didn’t you tell me,  _ and he understands. The leader had already known about Bilbo’s stars. He’d known he shared his stars with the hobbit and had said nothing, had done nothing. Bilbo has barely a moment to wonder how Thorin had figured it out before the dwarf was speaking again, hands reaching over and running over the hobbit’s exposed chest.

“I have the same one, here,” and then one hand was gone, leaving the hobbit’s chest and pointing at his own, in the same spot his other palm still lay over Bilbo’s heart. Bilbo’s mind is blank, mind focused only on the feeling of Thorin’s calloused hand pressed to his bare skin, directly to his  _ stars,  _ and if Bilbo thought he’d felt like fire when they’d hugged on the Carrock this was like being on the surface of the sun.

Thorin’s hand is gone almost as quickly as it had placed itself on Bilbo’s skin, eyes firm on Bilbo’s face and asking him, again, “Why did you never tell me?”

Bilbo could only stutter out a non-response, his mind still screaming over Thorin’s hand on his skin and that he  _ knew about the stars.  _ But the dwarf’s gaze is unwavering on his face, and mind-addled though he was, the hobbit knew that he couldn’t get away without a response.

“Well, uhm, you didn’t exactly make it  _ easy, _ ” Bilbo started, hating the crestfallen look on Thorin’s face and continuing quickly. “But it wasn’t just you. I’ve never been able to tell  _ anyone  _ about them, you understand. I would be killed where I’m from if word got out.

“People are not so kind to small hobbits as they are to dwarven princes and kings, Thorin. When I did show my stars, there was hardly a day that passed without someone trying to take them from me, to carve them from my skin.” 

At Thorin’s horrified face, Bilbo decided to stop his descriptions there.

“I just… couldn’t. I hope you can understand,” Bilbo finished, looking at the dwarf with hope in his eyes.

But in Thorin’s own expression horror had morphed to anger. At what, Bilbo didn’t dare to guess.

“I understand completely, Master Bilbo. But I am not them, my company is not them; you must have known none of us would hurt you in such a way!” 

And Bilbo  _ had  _ known that, but to know it and to actually take the step to tell them, risking everything, were two different things. Growing frustrated himself, Bilbo knew that the dwarf wouldn’t understand the fear Bilbo had felt for simply  _ existing, _ for simply being born with the stars in his skin. Thorin continued before the hobbit could get a word in.

“You saw mine, I have shown them to you from the moment we met, hobbit! I understand I was not the kindest to you but you could have said  _ something! _ ” And Bilbo really couldn’t have, that’s the whole point. He stands as he stares angrily at the dwarf.

“Why would I have trusted you, Thorin? I didn’t  _ know  _ you and you hardly made an effort to make me feel welcomed, let alone a friend I could share this with. It was easier to say nothing.”

Standing himself, the dwarf was glaring now. “But you should have said something,” he said with a grunt. “I am the leader of this company, I have the  _ right  _ to know such things about the members of my company.” He finishes with a stern tone, like he believed he was  _ actually  _ in the right here. Like he could demand such a secret from the hobbit without thought.

Bilbo was stunned at the audacity of the dwarf in front of him and stood, huffing now and sporting his own impressive glare towards the dwarf.

“You have the  _ right  _ to know nothing about me, Thorin Oakenshield. You can demand  _ nothing _ from me.” Bilbo spoke with his head high and gaze fuming on the dwarf. He stepped back quickly as Thorin made ready to say something else, to direct more of his anger towards the hobbit. He looked back towards the dwarf, saying one more thing as he left the arrogant dwarf alone in the garden.

“You will never know what it means to live in fear of your own existence, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo started, staring firmly but sadly at the dwarf behind him, who had gone suddenly silent. “For all that you have said this night, I hope that you never will.”

Refusing to look back at Thorin as he walked into the eerily silent house, Bilbo tried hard not to think of what the others heard as he buried himself in his bedroll. At least he wouldn’t have to hide his stars anymore, right? Thorin made sure of that.

Nodding off to sleep, eyes wet with tears and dwelling on the dwarf’s behavior, Bilbo realized he never asked Thorin about the nature of his powers. He’d hardly had a chance, dwarf’s ire raising as quickly as it did.

Sobbing wetly into his blanket, Bilbo wondered if he’d ever get the chance to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thorin why u gotta be like this :(
> 
> bilbo is feeling upset but he meets beorn next time, maybe the skinchanger will help the hobbit feel a little better! maybe.
> 
> but yes i hope you enjoyed, this is definitely more angsty but i wanted to capture thorin's anger at bilbo a little before they (hopefully) reconcile. please let me know what you think!
> 
> as always, thank you for the love, feel free to leave comments and thoughts and kudos below!
> 
> until next time :D x


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo won't talk to Thorin and Thorin won't talk to Bilbo.
> 
> Luckily, the dwarf isn't the only one Bilbo can seek comfort in.

The night came and went and Bilbo didn’t think he’d actually slept a minute of it.

Thoughts of Thorin constantly filled his mind; as he replayed their argument back in his head, Bilbo couldn’t stop thinking of the pure anger on the dwarf’s face directed towards him. Only towards him. And to be frozen out, to be treated as nothing was painful enough - but to be something the dwarf openly  _ hated  _ was a type of pain Bilbo wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy.

Feeling that pain deep in his soul and knowing he could get no more rest because of it, Bilbo rose and stepped quietly over Fili and Kili’s sleeping bodies. He didn’t know when the brothers had laid down next to him, but he vaguely remembered someone asking him quietly if he was okay before two sets of arms wrapped themselves around his drowsy, half-asleep self. Those boys were just that - boys, near children - but they had a way of comforting the hobbit that Bilbo had never been so grateful for. He even smiled at their now-entwined bodies and moved towards the door, needing a bit of pipe weed to start his day.

  
The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but the feelings weighing Bilbo down meant that he would sleep no more, not until his body gave out from exhaustion or one of the others forced him to rest. They still had another night at Beorn’s before they had to leave again, though, and Bilbo resolved to get some real rest before they headed to Mirkwood. Yavanna knows he’d need it, judging from the others’ terrifying description of the forest.

Bilbo sighed and smoked, puffing out hazy rings and setting aside a bit of bread and honey, thanking the bees quietly for their efforts. As he lost himself in his thoughts a loud buzzing neared him, closer than the other bees, and one of the abnormally large creatures settled on his leg.

Really, Bilbo should wave it away. He wasn’t frightened of bees, of course. An entire colony practically lived in his garden back home. But his bees were not near the size of Beorn’s, and the hobbit didn’t dare imagine the pain this one’s stinger would have should he anger it.

But at the same time, Bilbo knew what it was like to be ignored, brushed off, told to leave. This was only a bee, but Bilbo ached with the need to talk to someone, needed to  _ tell _ someone what he was feeling - so what if that someone happened to be an insect?

“Hello, Master Bee. A beautiful day, isn’t it?” Bilbo spoke to the bee, wondering quietly at his own sanity, and he fancied that the eyes of the creature were focused on him as the words left him.

Eating his honeyed bread, he continued speaking to the bee; of stubborn dwarves and unreasonable anger and “If he could only  _ understand, _ ” not knowing that a different witness to this conversation towered just behind him. 

Bilbo sighed and finished his rant, as well as his breakfast, staring at the bee as if waiting for a response. He thought that it looked understanding, sympathetic of his plight, shaking its wings as if to say  _ Yes, I understand. Damn those dwarves, really. _

“Thank you for listening, little friend.”

And then a loud, grumbling voice sounded from behind him, saying “They’re rather good listeners, those bees.” Freezing and turning around slowly, Bilbo looked up to meet the towering frame of a giant man, face firm but aura belying a bit of amusement directed towards the hobbit in front of him.

Bilbo blushed, realized that this must be their host. And his human form is more like his beast form than Bilbo would have thought; still hulking, hairy, eyes gleaming yellow even in the light of the sun. He has barely a moment to feel intimidated by his arrival before he realizes something quite mortifying indeed.

Beorn had likely overheard the hobbit, just before. Speaking to a bee. About his very personal thoughts and feelings.  _ To a bee. _

But then Beorn was laughing, smiling and staring at the hobbit, saying “Yes, quite the creatures, aren’t they, my bees.” One buzzed over, landing on Beorn’s large finger as he spoke as if beckoned by the man’s voice. “I am glad they have found a friend in you, as you have in them.”

Bilbo could only blush further at the acknowledgement of his conversation with the insect and nodded mutely as the large man moved closer.

Staring at the giant hand in front of him, Bilbo shook himself out of his stupor and moved to shake the skinchanger’s hand, mottled with scars and calloused from a life of hard work. His own looks rather pathetic in comparison, Bilbo notes - small, unscarred, a product of the gentle life he’d lived, though with a few small calluses marking his palms. 

As he shook the hobbit’s hand, Beorn nodded again and said, “You are not like the dwarves inside my home, little bunny.”   
  
And Bilbo is affronted at the nickname and wonders at Beorn’s implication but can’t find it in himself to correct the large skinchanger, embarrassment still too fresh in his memory to invite more in. Shooting an unsure smile at Beorn, the older creature beckoned him with a wave of his hand back to the house. Bilbo had finished his pipe, anyway. Maybe the others were up by now.

Walking back into the home with the skinchanger, Bilbo was met with the sight of thirteen frantic dwarves and one overly relaxed wizard. 

He hardly has time to ask what’s got them all in such a tizzy when Bofur’s eyes lock on his, the dwarf’s face melting into an expression of relief as he hurtles towards Bilbo, arms wrapping tightly around the hobbit as he speaks under his breath in muttered Khuzdul.

Bilbo can only stand still as Fili, Kili, and even Bombur come up and do the same, crowding him and he distantly hears someone yell for them to give the hobbit some space before they’re retreating, eyes still focused on the hobbit but allowing him some breathing room.

Fili speaks first, asking Bilbo “Where did you go, Master Boggins? We thought we’d lost you!” 

Bilbo doesn’t get a chance to say how silly that assumption was -  _ really,  _ where could he have gone? - when that towering presence is back by his side, looking warmly at Bilbo and then glaring at the dwarves as his large hand pats the hobbit’s head.

“He was with me, Master Dwarves. I assure you that I mean the little bunny no harm,” and  _ Yavanna  _ Bilbo was blushing again. Did Beorn really have to do that?

Avoiding the company’s eyes as he moved quickly out of reach of the skinchanger, Bilbo settled next to Gandalf. He missed the furious glares of the dwarves on Beorn’s back as he moved to stand at the edge of the room. He had missed Thorin’s enraged stare at Beorn’s hand when it patted the hobbit’s head, touching Bilbo when the dwarf could not. 

( _ And who’s fault was that, really. _ )

Thankfully things moved on quickly, ire and worry of the dwarves fading as the group discussed their next move. Bilbo listened attentively as Thorin, Gandalf, and Beorn discussed the dangers within the forest and what Beorn could supply to ease the company’s journey. He would loan them their ponies, though Bilbo suspected that had less to do with the dwarves’ need for them and more to do with Beorn’s warm disposition towards the hobbit.

If it meant he got to ride a pony rather than walk the long trek to Mirkwood, Bilbo wouldn’t complain.

As the conversation slowed, requests and negotiations with Beorn dwindling, Bilbo looked at the group and was grateful to find that none of them were eager to bring up the events of last night. That none had any ill will in their aura directed towards Bilbo or Thorin.

At the edge of the table, Bilbo did see Thorin and Dwalin muttering quietly in Khuzdul. As Bilbo stared at the two dwarves he was startled to see the bald-headed dwarf’s gaze dart quickly to the hobbit before moving away just as fast, as if Bilbo was the subject of their conversation. And he very well could be, only that he had no way of knowing it. The language of dwarves was a well-kept secret, and really their business was their own, Bilbo supposed. Even if they were talking about him, it was not being done so loudly. It was with this fact that Bilbo felt his discomfort ease.

Leaving the table and walking to Bombur, intending to discuss how to best stretch the rations Beorn would give them, Bilbo itched his covered arms absentmindedly. 

He had continued to cover his stars, not daring to look towards the leader to see his reactions. Bilbo didn’t  _ know  _ what the others had heard the previous nights, and he wasn’t willing to bare it all to them if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure they were already aware of them, however likely it was that Thorin had spilled his secret to his companions. He knew he’d likely have to tell them all at one point, anyway, if they didn’t already know, but that day was not today.

There was enough to deal with without mentioning the stars on his skin. And if Bilbo postponed the reveal a bit longer, it wasn’t to do with the fear that the others would react in the same way as their leader. It had nothing to do with the bone-deep terror that Bilbo felt at being shunned by the entire company upon revelation of his constellations. Nothing at all.

Old habits die hard, as they say.

And he’d even worn more clothing than usual today; in addition to his rolled-down sleeves and buttoned up shirt, Bilbo wore longer-than-usual pants, having sewn an additional piece of fabric to his trouser’s hem. He also wore a neckerchief, tied tightly around his neck so as to prevent another accidental reveal.

If the hobbit noticed Thorin’s insistent stare on the offending garment, he said nothing. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for it; their leader still seemed to be seething over Bilbo’s poorly-hidden secret while Bilbo only felt resigned to the leader’s anger, miserable that Thorin refused to understand. Refused to  _ listen  _ to the hobbit. 

So he spoke to Bombur and concluded that they had more than enough time to get through Mirkwood on what they already had, plus Beorn’s generous donations. Further plans were made, and despite the original two nights they planned to spend at the skinchanger’s home the group was ready and departing within a few hours. Bilbo privately bemoaned the lack of rest he’d gotten the night before as well as the sleepless nights that were sure to come within the dark forest.

Before the company left, they bid farewell to their host; the dwarves as well, however unwillingly, Gandalf’s stern eyes on them the whole time. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, Beorn pays special attention to the smallest member of the company.

Kneeling before the hobbit, oblivious to Bilbo’s flustered expression and the intense scrutiny of the dwarves on their interaction, Beorn spoke quietly enough that only the hobbit could hear him.

“Mind yourself around those  _ dwarves,  _ little bunny,” Beorn spoke, his mouth curving in distaste around the mention of the hobbit’s companions. “And in Mirkwood. That forest is not what it used to be; I would not wish any harm to come to you, little bunny. You must be safe.” The last two words spoken loud enough for everyone to hear, perhaps so the dwarves did not think Bilbo was being threatened by the skinchanger.

Again as red as a tomato, Bilbo nodded fervently and hugged the larger being, perhaps because he needed the words of encouragement and perhaps because he simply needed a hug. Regardless, pulling away and mounting his pony, he met Thorin’s eyes and was unsurprised to see the simmering rage there. Perhaps the dwarf would never forgive Bilbo for his secrets. That only made Beorn’s well wishes all the more valuable - to know that someone cared for him, that someone only wished him well.

As the group rode away, the mumblings of the dwarves halted as Beorn ordered them loudly to leave his ponies at the edge of the forest - if they did not, he warned them, he would not be so kind the next time they crossed paths. The fact that he’d be in his other form was left unsaid.

~

Soon enough the company arrived at the border of Mirkwood, dismounting their ponies and watching as they faded into the distance. All but one. Looking inquiringly at the wizard, Bilbo asked Gandalf why he did not dismount with the others.

Looking gravely at the hobbit and the multiple pairs of dwarven eyes that suddenly settled on his figure, Gandalf spoke with no small level of regret in his tone.

“I must apologize, my friends, but I shall not be accompanying you into the dark forest.” Groans and shouts of protest erupted from the group around him, but Gandalf stayed firm. “I have urgent business elsewhere.

“Though I must warn you;  _ do not  _ enter the mountain without me,” Gandalf spoke sternly yet even as he did so Bilbo could see the uncertain expressions of the others around him. “I shall meet you at the fallen city of Dale when my business is concluded; you  _ must  _ wait for me.”

Nodding farewell to the group and turning around before they could say a word to protest, Gandalf rode away just as quickly as he and the company had ridden there, shouting one last warning as he did so, “ _ And follow the path! _ ”

Bilbo and the dwarves should head into the forest quickly. Who knew how close the orcs were on their tail - they could be just over the hill, and the company was in no state to take them head on, not without the wizard. But Bilbo couldn’t tear his eyes away from Gandalf’s retreating figure. He had been the reason Bilbo was confident going into the forest at all; dark things lurked there, one could see that even from the edge of the forest, and Bilbo wasn’t sure that thirteen dwarves and one hobbit would be a match for them.

But they couldn’t very well turn around, and at Thorin’s barked orders the company descended into Mirkwood without sparing a glance at the open land behind them.

It wasn’t long at all before they were completely, utterly, hopelessly lost within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally! i don't know what it is about this chapter but it took me *forever*, even after i outlined it. forgive me for the wait!
> 
> we get more of beorn here, i really like the character and you best believe he's gonna pop up again before the story's over!
> 
> and low and behold, thorin's still a jerk. but they're going into mirkwood and bilbo's really gonna show what a badass he is, thorin will get his head out of his ass eventually!!
> 
> i hope you enjoy, feel free to leave kudos/comments below - i really look forward to reading them!
> 
> until next time :D x


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and the dwarves encounter some rather unpleasant things within forest known as Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! another one!

Bilbo had no idea when the company had strayed from the path Gandalf had warned them of, had no idea when the line of the company had tangled and the all-important road through Mirkwood had disappeared, leaving only dry sticks and rocks beneath their feet that made even Bilbo’s hard soles uncomfortable.

They  _ really  _ should have paid more attention to the path.

Only that it wasn’t like the straight road that shot through Hobbiton, or Bree, or even the slightly more complicated one in Rivendell. No, this path was winding, curving, dropping and rising with no warning and no chance to find one’s way back should they lose it for even a moment. It didn’t help that the company was likely the first to traverse the road in a long while, overgrown and brambly as it was. Bilbo somehow doubted the forest was a booming tourist destination.

Bilbo wondered hazily, mind thick with the fog that seemed to permeate the very air he breathed, what sort of  _ urgent business  _ had demanded the wizard’s attention so pressingly. He wished, not for the first time, that Gandalf had been able to accompany them. Bilbo doubted the towering limbs of the trees around them would feel so suffocating with the wizard in their midst.

And if Gandalf had been able to stay, Bilbo doubted he’d be scaling one of the monstrosities, arms and legs aching but continuing to push forward, approaching the top of the tree. He didn’t know why  _ he’d  _ been picked for this, he was hardly the most athletic of the group, but evidently hobbits were “nimble” in a way that dwarves were not. That was a load of shit if Bilbo had ever heard one.

However, nearing the top of the canopy of trees and stealing his first gasps of almost-fresh air, Bilbo found he did not mind so much at all. And, as his head broke through the leaves, breathing in the clean air that existed outside the forest and mind clearing almost instantly of the haze it had been in since they entered the forest, staring at the vast greeness that stretched for miles ahead, Bilbo amended his statement. He rather thought he was glad to have been chosen for the job, after all.

Inhaling deeply and savoring the fresh air around him, Bilbo looked more closely at his surroundings. 

All around him were the green tops of the trees in the forest, vibrant here in a way they were definitely  _ not  _ when he was within Mirkwood. In the far distance, past a lake and a small town atop it, Bilbo could see the destination he and the others had worked so hard to reach.  _ Erebor.  _ They were nearly there!

Loitering a bit longer and savoring the feel of not being suffocated by the forest, Bilbo eventually descended from the treetop, however slowly, knowing the others were waiting for him and that he needed to tell them of their proximity to their destination, how close they were to finishing their adventure.

In his excitement, he’d rather forgotten about the dragon occupying the mountain. He’d have time to remember that later.

Descending with a new sense of hope filling his veins, Bilbo almost didn’t notice his foot drop into something soft and silky, something that he had to wrench his leg out of before he could continue. Looking downward, he realized that it had been a spiderweb. And that was odd; Bilbo didn’t remember seeing any spiders so far, especially not ones large enough to create a web of this size. And it would have to be a  _ very  _ large one to have made this web. 

A flash of memory, the company surrounded by dozens of glowing eyes in the darkness around them, briefly surfaced in his mind. He hadn’t been sure if it was a hallucination at the time, but he felt rather ill when he realized that the eyes around them likely belonged to the makers of these webs. 

Climbing down further, Bilbo felt a new sense of dread seep into his veins at the sight of one of his companions wrapped in the same kind of web he’d stuck his foot into only a moment ago, face hidden but unmistakable stature still visible. Panic creeping into Bilbo faster than before, he looked around him and saw the rest of the company in a very similar state, faces hidden and so eerily still Bilbo didn’t know if they were still breathing.

He nearly screamed when he heard one of the spiders approaching the low branch he was crouched on.

Thinking on his feet and remembering the ring he’d found in the goblin caves so long ago, he slipped it onto his finger and held his breath as the world faded to grey and black, trees around him taking on a faded edge and the sound of raspy voices flooding the air around him.

Bilbo jumped, managed not to yelp as the voices grew closer, and it was with a start that Bilbo realized he could understand the words of the spiders around him. There were three that Bilbo could see, but he knew there were likely many others sheltering in the trees around the dwarves. They were discussing their bounty, and as Bilbo listened on with a pale face he wondered about what kind of ring he now possessed, that it allowed him to understand the speech of such dark creatures and then what other powers it may hold. Besides rendering him invisible, of course.

He could dwell on that later, he decided, watching one of the spiders move away from its kin with one of the dwarves. He had other things to deal with at the moment.

Following the lone arachnid, Bilbo pulled out his sword and plunged it into the face of the spider in front of him, watching it’s body writhe and wriggle until it eventually settled into a still death, legs curling up in the same way the spiders in his hobbit hole would do. Breathing a sigh of relief, Bilbo cut the dwarf free - Nori, he found out - and watched as he awoke with a gasp, looking around frantically and startling as he saw the dead body of the spider in front of him.

Bilbo still wore the ring, and didn’t have time to take it off and alert Nori of his presence when the dwarf was darting back in the direction of the company, loud shouts of the others and piercing hisses of the spiders alerting him of their location.

The others had woken up on their own, it seemed. He silently thanked the Valar that he had not had to free more than the one dwarf on his own. Even with his ring, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to.

Following the dwarven thief back to the others, he helped where he could while remaining invisible and slaughtered the spiders when an opportunity presented itself. He could see the drugged dwarfs doing their best to do the same, swords and axes slashing through the air but without the typical accuracy the company usually possessed. 

To Bilbo’s horror, it wasn’t long before they were overwhelmed, the spiders pushing on with a ferocity the dwarves had no hope of matching, pincers and sharp appendages moving closer and closer to the dwarves with each passing moment. Bilbo could only look on from his spot in the darkness.

But then he saw a lithe body slip through the trees next to him, and he had barely a moment to yelp before a dozen more followed, silver weapons sliding through the arachnids with a precision Bilbo had never seen. The hobbit looked on in fascination as he realized they were  _ elves,  _ elves were saving them! Maybe Thorin would see sense now, Bilbo thought smugly. To be saved by an elf!

But as soon as the spiders dropped dead the elves were directing their weapons towards the dwarven company, entirely oblivious as to the hobbit presence in the bushes just beyond the group. And the dwarves were scowling, knowing they could not defeat their saviors turned abductors, all but throwing their own weapons to the ground.

Really, maybe Thorin did have a point about the elves in Mirkwood, Bilbo thought as he listened to the egotistical blonde-haired leader of the group berate Thorin and demand he come back to their stronghold, that his father would surely love to know what this company of dwarves were doing lurking in their forest.

At the mention of the elven king, Thorin’s face morphed into something Bilbo had never seen. If he’d thought the anger directed towards him was pure, then this was as if Sauron himself lived within the dwarf’s visage and was staring the elf in his elegant face. Shivering silently, Bilbo found himself grateful to have never been on the receiving end of that stare, no matter how hated he thought he was by the dwarf. He didn’t know how the elf wasn’t cowering in the face of such a glare.

Then the elves were moving, holding the dwarves captive and moving them to the elven palace, to the leader of the woodland realm. Snapping out of it, Bilbo scowled as he followed along silently, never so grateful for the invisibility his ring granted him and knowing he would bear the responsibility of freeing the dwarves, should the elven king really choose to hold them captive.

Somehow, Bilbo didn’t see an alternative option happening.

As he followed from a distance, he observed the anxious expressions of Fili and Kili as they spoke in the dwarven language to their uncle. Thorin’s face changed from pure fury to a hopeless sort of grief as he looked frantically at the faces of the company around him. Bilbo watched as, evidently not finding that which he was looking for, Thorin shook his head and looked back at his nephews. Their faces fell along with the dwarves around them, auras turning black and blue as if to mourn something. Someone. Silently wondering what it was that made them wear such expressions, made them feel such pain, Bilbo counted the heads of the company in front of him again, seeing thirteen and knowing that none of them were seriously injured let alone lost.

He continued following along, watching the mourning auras of his friends hidden behind fierce visages directed towards the elves, and realized with a start that his friends didn’t know he was there.

Perhaps a bit too late, Bilbo thought. 

For all the dwarves knew, Bilbo was lost - to the forest or, perhaps, lying dead still with the spiders back where the elves had found the company. For all they knew, the hobbit was gone, only this time it was to things worse than Bag End and his armchair. To much, much worse things.

Understanding the pain the company was enduring, Bilbo nonetheless felt a certain warmth at being missed so by the group. That even Thorin had seemed to grieve upon believing the hobbit was lost to them. That, perhaps, there was still something there to be salvaged.

Filled with a renewed motivation, Bilbo furrowed his brow and continued shadowing the elves, knowing that no matter what it took he would free his companions from the clutches of the wood elves. They would know he was not lost and that Bilbo would do anything to ensure their safety.

Their adventure would not be stopped by the likes of these captors. 

Now, the only thing left to do was infiltrate an elven stronghold and free thirteen less-than-stealthy dwarves. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

  
Wrong. Very very,  _ wrong. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little shorter than usual, but i have plans already for the next one and a day off tomorrow so expect exciting things next chapter!
> 
> also all the dwarves think bilbo is dead :( poor thorin. even tho i'm sure many of you don't have much sympathy for him atm.
> 
> next one coming tomorrow/day after tomorrow maybe! will be some sad thorin feels, get ready :D
> 
> i hope you enjoyed it, please feel free to leave kudos and comments below! 
> 
> until next time :D x


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company is trapped in Mirkwood for much longer than any of them had planned.
> 
> Bilbo's responsibility is to rescue them, and he manages to do just that. Almost.

Slowly approaching the gates to the elven stronghold, Bilbo sped up as the elves slipped through just behind his dwarven companions, managing to sneak into the city just as soon as the gates closed with a thud behind him. He barely had a moment to sigh in relief as more elves suddenly appeared behind him, nearly bumping into the hobbit as he stumbled out of the way. He thought he saw one of them stop, the same blond one that had ambushed them in the clearing, peering inquiringly at the air where the hobbit stood invisible and Bilbo could only hold his breath.

Thankfully the elf moved on, and Bilbo finally let the air out of his lungs as he quickly followed where he’d seen the dwarves go, emerging into an impressive throne room, elven king sitting high above the rest in his throne adorned with massive antlers. If he wasn’t in the situation he currently found himself in, Bilbo rather thought he’d be impressed by the scene. Would maybe even pull the king aside with questions about his race and the differences between them and the elves in Rivendell, for instance.

But he was in this situation. And if he revealed himself, pulling off his magic ring, he was likely to be imprisoned with the rest of his company. Then what would become of their adventure? Of Thorin’s home?

The hobbit could only look on silently as the elven king - Thranduil, Bilbo learned - approached Thorin, something in his aura that Bilbo didn’t like. Didn’t understand. And maybe it was better that he wouldn’t be able to become close to the elf; Bilbo didn’t really think he’d like to, anyway.

“It has been many years since I have been graced by the sight of one of your line, young Master Dwarf,” Thranduil spoke, seeming respectful but with an obvious condescension in his tone towards the dwarf. “I wonder what it is that brings you to my realm?”

And Bilbo knew Thorin, knew he wouldn’t give away the intention of their journey through Mirkwood so easily, and definitely not to the very elf that refused to aid him so long ago. He would say nothing, even if doing so meant the imprisonment of himself and his kin.

Bilbo cursed the stubbornness of dwarves as Thorin proved him right, only glaring harder at the elf. The hobbit could almost guess what he’d say next.

“I will tell you  _ nothing,  _ filthy  _ elf,”  _ Thorin started, stars seeming to shine brighter in his rage. 

And the elf’s eyes were drawn to the constellations despite his ire. Thranduil gazed curiously at the stars as the dwarf heaved with anger, expression morphing into something dark.

“You know, I have always thought that your race was undeserving of the marks your maker chose to bestow upon you,” the elf spoke, moving back towards his throne and waving his “guests” away, directing the guards and the red-haired she-elf to place the dwarves in prison cells “until their leader could come to his senses.”

And Bilbo realized with a start that Thranduil was talking about the dwarf’s stars. If he’d had any hope Thorin would come to his senses, it vanished with the insult the elf directed towards the dwarf.

Sure enough, Thorin was bright red and thrashing in his captor’s grip as they led him away from the king, away from the rest of the dwarves. He could hear their desperate calls for their leader as Thorin vanished from their sight.

Bilbo didn’t think twice as he slipped through the door, following Thorin and the elves escorting him down a much narrower path, to a cell quite separate from the others. He watched as the dwarf was all but thrown into his cell, elves jeering at the fallen king as they laughed and left him in his cage. As the elves disappeared into the adjacent hallway, Bilbo watched Thorin’s expression fall; rage fading into something sorrowful and Thorin closed his eyes, figure slumping as the events of the day caught up to him.

Bilbo couldn’t bear to watch the one he loved in such pain and do nothing. Despite their trials, despite their lacking relationship, Bilbo couldn’t do  _ nothing.  _ He had to let the dwarf know that all was not lost. That there was still hope. 

Checking that the coast was clear and that he wouldn’t be discovered, Bilbo wrenched his ring off and moved in front of the small cell, realizing with a start that the dwarf was quietly crying, tears hidden behind the unkempt mane of hair draped over his face.

Bilbo made a point to ask the dwarf if he’d need any help rebraiding, once the company was safe. He’d had quite a bit of experience with his smaller hobbit cousins.

Speaking Thorin’s name quietly, Bilbo watched as the dwarf froze and that defensive stature came up again, as if hiding his weakness and proving that he was as strong as ever. Bilbo didn’t even think that Thorin knew it was him, and the dwarf didn’t look up, ashamed as he likely was by the tear tracks on his cheeks.

So he spoke again. “Thorin, it’s  _ me, _ ” tone a bit firmer and watched as the dwarf inhaled shakily, head rising and tear-filled eyes meeting Bilbo’s own, widening as he regarded the hobbit in front of him.

And then he was up, all but running to the bars of his cell and reaching his hands through, as if trying to touch any part of Bilbo that he could. As if Thorin was trying to prove to himself that the hobbit really was there, that he wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“ _ Bilbo, _ ” Thorin spoke, voice full of emotion and something else that Bilbo can’t quite name. “I thought you were dead.”

The dwarf’s hands were still reaching for the hobbit and Bilbo moved closer, let Thorin’s hands roam his face, his hair, his arms as if ensuring Bilbo wasn’t harmed, that he was real. Bilbo could only blush and fidget throughout the dwarf’s examination.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Bilbo joked, hoping to lighten the dwarf’s mood and banish that heartbroken expression from his face. Only that it may not have been the right thing to say.

Bilbo watched as the dwarf’s hands fell suddenly, reaching for the hobbit’s own and grasping them so tightly Bilbo might have thought he was afraid Bilbo would vanish without a trace, just as he’d appeared a moment ago.

“I would never want to be rid of you, Bilbo.  _ Never.”  _

And Bilbo’s brows furrow, because that certainly wasn’t the way Thorin had been acting, and maybe he’d been more injured in the fight with the spiders than Bilbo thought. Or maybe the elves had done something that Bilbo hadn’t seen, had attacked the dwarf when the rest of the group couldn’t see. What other explanation was there for Thorin’s behavior?

But the dwarf was still talking, and Bilbo could only stare, eyes wide, as he spilled his very soul to the hobbit.

Still holding Bilbo’s hands tightly, Thorin spoke, “I have never been so sorry for anything as I am for the way I have treated you. When we are free from this cursed place I will do everything I can to make amends to you, my dear hobbit.  _ My one. _ That I can promise you,” finishing his declaration, the dwarf brought Bilbo’s hands up to his mouth through the bars and was  _ kissing  _ them, as though sealing his promise with the press of his lips on the hobbit’s skin.

And Bilbo  _ really  _ didn’t know what to do now, the dwarf’s declaration doing little but confusing him. He could only stare at Thorin and his hopeful expression, nodding blankly and wondering if his affections hadn’t been unreciprocated after all, his head spinning as the dwarf released him and stepped back upon hearing footsteps approach the cell.

Bilbo snapped out of it and slipped his ring on, barely registering Thorin’s shocked then panicked expression as he vanished through the hallways in search of the other dwarves, slipping past elven guards at every turn.

He’d come back to Thorin soon, Bilbo thought.

As if he’d be able to stay away from him now.

~

It was sometime later that Bilbo was slipping a key into Balin’s waiting hands, ring still on his finger, quitely relaying the plan for the nth time as the dwarf listened intently to his invisible rescuer. 

He and the others had reacted better than Bilbo had thought to his magic ring, though maybe that had something to do with their current imprisonment. He wouldn’t complain.

“I greatly thank you for your efforts, Bilbo,” Balin spoke, pocketing the key and stepping back from the locked entrance. “I’ll be waiting for the time, laddie.”

And Bilbo nodded, though Balin couldn’t see him, stepping away to deliver the rest of the keys to the various dwarves locked in their prison cells.

His plan was going very well, if Bilbo said so himself, the ring of keys he’d picked from the elven captain’s pocket earlier going unnoticed amidst the massive celebration happening in the halls below. And really, it had been a few weeks, but the company was very lucky indeed that such a festival was scheduled during their imprisonment. Bilbo didn’t know how else they’d have planned an escape.

After the dwarves had unlocked their cells, the only thing left to do would be to sneak into the storage room with a hatch leading to the river below. He’d given detailed directions to the dwarves, instructing them to slip out one at a time and head to the room in order to minimize the noise from their escape. Bilbo hadn’t told his companions of the specifics quite yet, only that their escape would likely be a bumpy one. It wasn’t as if they had any other choice, really.

Delivering the rest of the keys quickly and instructing the dwarves to wait for the second stroke of midnight and then start their staggered journey to the storage room, Bilbo slipped away and headed to Thorin’s isolated cell, knowing that he could have likely found his way to the storage room with the others but needing to see the dwarf himself. Needing to know that Thorin would be okay, that he’d make it without being spotted.. And if his motivations were more than a little selfish, then really only he needed to know that.

Bilbo hurried to Thorin’s cell, time of their escape nearing quickly and opportunity running out just as fast. He entered the room, slipping off his ring so as not to startle the dwarf and quickly unlocking his cell. He had hardly muttered a greeting to Thorin before the dwarf’s larger body was on him, embracing him tightly and inhaling deeply as he buried his face into Bilbo’s neck.

Bilbo stood still for a moment then came to his senses, eyes shutting tight and arms coming up to embrace the dwarf in return, Thorin’s arms seeming to grow tighter around Bilbo as he did so.

Then he was pulling back, staring at Bilbo’s face as though carving it into his memory and committing every detail to mind. The hobbit’s flustered as ever as his eyes meet Thorin’s, coughing and speaking quietly under the intense scrutiny of the dwarf’s gaze.

“We should really get to the others,” Bilbo all but whispered, eyes locked on Thorin’s own. It was this sentence that seemed to snap Thorin out of whatever trance he was in, eyes rapidly going back in focus and nodding at the hobbit, pulling away quickly.

Bilbo tried not to think about how painful the absence of the dwarf’s body wrapped around his own was.

Leading the way, ring still off so that Thorin could follow him, the two made their way to the storage room just in time. The other dwarves were already there, huddled by the entrance and jumping as the two entered, already on edge.

“Alright. Everyone’s here,” Bilbo said, doing a quick head count and nodding to himself. “Into the barrels.”

The company erupted at Bilbo’s sentence and really, one would think they’d forgotten they were escaping prisoners in an elven prison with the volume they suddenly took on. 

It was only Thorin’s harsh voice that halted the protests, directing the other dwarves quickly to do as the hobbit said. Gratitude filled Bilbo as he helped the leader into his own barrel, shaking his head as Thorin questioned his own method of escape.

“Where will you be, Bilbo?”

The hobbit didn’t respond, pulling the lever that released the company into the waters below as soon as the company had tucked themselves into the barrels. Bilbo had hardly a second to jump in after them, hatch shutting with a bang behind the group. And maybe he’d underestimated just how trying it would be to escape this way, head bobbing up and down, nearly drowning as he was in the harsh waters without something to keep him afloat.

Was it a bad time to tell the others he’d never really learned how to swim?

But as he was dragged further beneath the rapids, head lowering into the water and Bilbo unsure if he’d even make it out the other side, a pair of hands grabbed his own and he was being pulled above the surface.

Gasping in deep breaths of air, Bilbo blinked the water out of his eyes as he looked at his savior, Thorin’s frantic gaze meeting his own.

The dwarf pulled BIlbo’s body flush to the barrel he was in, hands grasping his body as he ensured the hobbit didn’t drift away, wasn’t pulled again into the deep waters.

Then the sky opened above them and they emerged, fresh air around them and dankness of the tunnels left behind.

_ We’ve made it,  _ Bilbo thought to himself, dripping hair in his eyes and the company looking rather ill at the motions of their barrels in the water.

But then an arrow whizzed in the air past the hobbit’s head.

Their escape wasn’t quite as stealthy as he'd thought, evidently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thorin said something !!! but will bilbo realize what he meant :0
> 
> not too much mention of tauriel in this one, i'm not quite sure how i plan on progressing her relationship with kili in this one :/ not the biggest fan of it in the movies so we'll see what happens! feel free to let me know your thoughts below!
> 
> anyway i hope you all liked it! thank you for the love on the previous chapter (& the other ones too ofc)!
> 
> until next time :D x


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin come to realize something. 
> 
> Just in time.

It seemed like ages had passed before the company washed up on a shore far from the depths of Mirkwood, bodies and minds fatigued from the rough journey.

Bilbo had barely a moment to stumble from the water before Thorin’s hands were on him, checking for injuries and ensuring the hobbit was well, that nothing worse than a bit of motion sickness had struck Bilbo. The others were in the process of doing the same, and the hobbit was relieved to see that no one had sustained serious injuries, nothing more than a nick or scratch. Kili looked a little worse off than the rest from the ride, and the hobbit meant to go check on the pale boy, to pry himself out of Thorin’s well-meaning grip when a sudden shout from Dwalin drew his attention.

There was someone else. Someone that was not a member of their company, standing on his boat, staring at the group with an intensity Bilbo wasn’t sure he liked being the focus of. 

“I’m meant to collect those barrels, you see. I wasn’t informed there’d be a gaggle of dwarves within them.” the man spoke, and it may have been that they had spent the better part of a month being trapped in elven halls but the entire company was on edge at the man’s words.

But he was a Man, and Balin quietly calmed the others before asking whether the man (Bard, he introduces himself) came from Laketown. 

“Yes, I do,” Bard says, and Bilbo can see the beginnings of a plan play out in the older dwarf’s head.

“Well, you see,” Balin started, playing up his charisma towards the man, “My friends and I, we’re rather in need of a way into the town.”

And the man is skeptical, but the sacks of coins that somehow survived the trip from Mirkwood seem to convince him; before they knew it the dwarves (and Bilbo, this time) were being stuffed back into the barrels they’d just emerged from - only with the addition of fish, this time.

Bilbo understood why the company looked so ill, so pale after emerging from the barrels before. And that was  _ without  _ the addition of fish on top; Bilbo wondered in his own barrel, squeezed tight within it, how the larger dwarves managed to fit.

He heard Bard warn the group to silence as they neared the floating city, his short conversation with someone at the entrance putting Bilbo entirely too much on edge. But they were allowed to pass and were soon at the man’s house, entering in a decidedly unsavory fashion.

Bilbo would rather not reminisce on that particular entrance.

But they were safe inside the man’s house, and Bilbo suddenly understood why Bard was willing to risk so much smuggling the group in for a few sacks of coins at the sight of his surroundings.

The house was bare, only the minimum furnishings and essential items littering the home around him. And Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure it could be called a home, in the first place, as empty as it was. He silently resolved, should the adventure succeed - and he hoped to Yavanna it would - that he would give a hefty portion of his share to the people in this town. He would have no need of it, and from the brief glances of the people in this town they definitely did.

He came out of his musings amidst protests from the dwarves, looking distastefully at some weapons laid out on the table in front of them.

Only they weren’t really weapons, and even a hobbit could see that. Tools for fishing, practical but hardly fit to slay a dragon, no matter how much Bard insisted they would do just fine.

The company needed better supplies, and with no other way to get them there was only one option in mind. They’d have to take them from the cities’ armory. It couldn’t be that hard… right? Nothing compared to taking on a dragon, Bilbo supposed. And they’d pay them back, once the mountain was reclaimed, of course. It was a minor loan, as far as he was concerned.

Only that the guards apprehending the group, minus Kili, Bofur, and Oin, didn’t seem to think so. And what a way for their adventure to end, Bilbo thought, being wrestled in front of the leader of the town with the rest of Thorin’s company.

~

Bilbo hated the look of the man and found himself recoiling as the leader of Laketown addressed Thorin, stringy beard waving in the slight wind and great belly flopping as he gave his  _ grand  _ speech, questioning the motives of the dwarves in front of him. 

“What danger could they bring to our fine city?” He spoke, voice slimy with something Bilbo didn’t like and aura dark with greed, a lust for power. “What could they gain from entering the mountain?”

And Bilbo realized with a sigh that Bard was there as well, that he must have guessed the motives of the dwarven company and was less than happy with them, as he addressed the Master and the citizens of the town.

“They will bring only ruin should we allow them to enter the mountain!” He yelled, glaring fiercely at the dwarves and sending pleading looks towards the Master. He looked to be gaining traction with the man, bushy brows furrowing as he considered Bard’s words.

Only then Thorin was speaking, his voice demanding attention in a way that neither the Master nor Bard’s was capable of. He spoke of great riches, of jewels and gems that would be gifted to the town as thanks for their help in reaching the lonely peak. Spinning tales of great treasure and thrilling adventure, Bilbo found himself gaping along with the crowd at the sudden charisma that seemed to course throughout the dwarf.

And when the Master still questioned him, still wondered at the truth in the dwarf’s words, Bilbo didn’t think twice before stepping in front of the greasy man and declaring the truth in Thorin’s speech, that the town would be compensated for the slight,  _ slight  _ danger that sending the group to the mountain would bring. 

The dragon was likely dead by now anyway, Bilbo reasoned.

The hobbit avoided Bard’s disbelieving stare as the dwarves suddenly embraced the hobbit, the Master having listened to his words, declaring that he vouched for the group and would send them off with proper supplies at first light.

Bilbo tried not to think of burning bodies, of Bard’s home - however bare - being burnt to the ground by dragon’s fire. He tried very hard indeed to avoid thinking of these things, choosing instead to hope against hope that the dragon Smaug lay dead within his mountain tomb, that he had passed and all that there was to be done was dispose of his corpse.

Somehow, he didn’t think that would be the case.

~

Moving into the Master’s house, Bilbo noted that it was much larger and also bursting with useless declarations of wealth. Really, even Lobelia would be put off by the sheer amount and luster of the precious metals in the place. Bilbo sagged into his chair as he ate from the large table in front of him.

He was grateful for the hospitality but found it hard to stomach, knowing that the citizens of Laketown were without food, without proper shelter; lacking so many of the things that their Master seemed to have in abundance. It was for this reason that Bilbo accepted eagerly when Thorin approached, asking him if he had a moment to speak alone.

Well, one of the reasons, anyway.

Moving away from the bountiful meal in front of him, somehow not feeling hungry despite the small amount he’d eaten the past weeks, Bilbo followed Thorin to one of the many rooms within the large house.

As soon as the hobbit stepped into the room, the door was shut behind him and Thorin was next to him, speaking quickly with eyes locked intently on Bilbo’s smaller figure.

“I am sorry it has taken me until now to apologize for my behavior towards you, Bilbo,” Thorin started, his gaze intent and hands dwarfing Bilbo’s own in their grasp.

“I understand entirely why you did not feel comfortable revealing your stars to me, and that my reaction before likely solidified your reasoning in concealing this from me. You must know that I hold no ill will towards you,” Thorin’s voice stopped, and he breathed in deeply before continuing. “I can only hope that you bear none towards me.

“It is a lot to ask of you, but still, I must; do I have your forgiveness, Bilbo?”

Bilbo stood before the dwarf, hands still in Thorin’s - for which the hobbit was grateful; the shaking of his hands wasn’t quite so obvious, then - and looked at Thorin’s face. 

The dwarf was wearing a hopeful expression, his stars on clear display and seeming to betray the nerves soaring within Thorin. And Bilbo doesn’t delay any longer, can’t bear to see the expression on the dwarf’s face change into something different, fall into something disappointed yet accepting. He knew the dwarf wouldn’t fault Bilbo if he didn’t grant his forgiveness; this only made him want to accept Thorin’s apology all the more.

“Oh Thorin, you silly dwarf,” Bilbo started, gaze settling on the dwarf’s eyes and a smile taking over his face. “You already have it.”

Then Thorin is all over him, hands grasping tight on Bilbo’s waist and his head is back in the crook of Bilbo’s neck, and  _ oh  _ Bilbo loves feeling like this.

Feeling like he can do anything, despite all the uncertainty in their future, all that the company does not know and the very real danger that they still face. Like he can conquer anything as long as Thorin is by his side. Like Smaug himself could show up outside and Bilbo wouldn’t even need any help to take him down.

The stars on Thorin’s skin gleamed and Bilbo couldn’t take his eyes off of them as the dwarf pulled back. And his own hands went to his collar, still shaky but sure of their movements, undoing the top buttons and revealing some of his own star-speckled skin.

His eyes on Bilbo’s skin, Thorin’s hands went slowly to the hobbit’s bared chest, eyes full of awe as they looked properly at his stars for the first time. The first time that Bilbo  _ showed  _ Thorin his stars, that he invited the dwarf to touch.

Thorin’s hands paused just above the hobbit’s skin, eyes going to Bilbo’s as if to ask “ _Can I?_ _Is this okay?_ ”

Nodding shyly, Bilbo screwed his eyes shut, for he had never revealed himself in such a way before, not to anyone. He simply lost himself in the feeling of the dwarf’s calloused hands mapping out the stars on his body. slowly pushing and unfastening more and more of the shirt off the hobbit’s shoulders until Bilbo stood bare in front of him.

Bilbo wasn’t a shy hobbit, not by any means, but the way that Thorin was staring at his exposed chest made him want to hide, like he was being stripped even further by the look in the dwarf’s eyes. He couldn’t look at Thorin.

“Bilbo,” the dwarf spoke quietly, resting his hands on the hobbit’s naked waist and laying palms flat over the constellations there.

“I have never seen anything more beautiful than this. Than you, my one.”

Bilbo opened his eyes, not knowing the meaning of Thorin's words but understanding the gravity of what he said and suddenly tearful. Thorin’s head dropped to meet his own, lips touching with a fire Bilbo had never felt, the stars on their skin seeming to shine even brighter at the heat the kiss brought.

The embrace deepened, Bilbo’s hands coming up to meet Thorin’s mane of hair and he barely registered the interesting sound that produced from the dwarf when he was being picked up, Thorin pressing him against the wall and deepening their kiss further.

Bilbo and Thorin passed the night in a blur of hands and teeth and lips and skin on skin, the two coming to know each other in a more intimate fashion than Bilbo had ever dreamed of.

Finding himself suddenly grateful for the privacy such a large house entailed, he fell asleep in the arms of his beloved, stars pressed against Thorin’s and large hands in his hair.

He could not say what tomorrow would bring. But this? This he would remember for a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED!!!!
> 
> but really.. they in it now! bilbo still doesn't understand the whole "one" thing but basically... bilbo is thorin's one. thorin hasn't explained it, but he will dw! hobbits don't really have them so to bilbo, thorin's someone he loves but not a *soulmate* type thing.
> 
> also kili will be okay!! he was pale but the whole arrow deal didn't happen bc i can't deal with that :( all members are healthy and hale, relatively!
> 
> they set out next chapter! exciting things to come!
> 
> anyway i hope you enjoyed, leave thoughts/comments below! & kudos are always appreciated ;)
> 
> until next time :D x


	19. hiatus

hello everyone! so i want to say how much i appreciate all the love for this story, it started as a random drabble and evolved into probably the longest thing i've managed to write so far - so thank you for your comments and thoughts and kudos, i really do appreciate it.

however i'm kind of stuck with this one, i don't feel the same motivation as i did with it before & that means if i continued, i'd be putting out chapters that aren't as good as they could be. thus, unfortunately i'll be putting cosmic children on hold until i can get some better ideas of where to take the story and what i want to do with the characters/relationships. i plan on continuing to work on it, but it will be at my own pace/won't upload the chapters until the whole thing's done. i hope you can all understand!

again, thank you so much for all the love, i'll finish this story at some point but it may not be for a while. in the meantime i will be posting some shorter works on my ao3 so if you're interested keep an eye out! they won't all be LOTR/Hobbit but focused on some other fandoms as well :)

best of luck with the craziness in the world right now, i wish you all health & happiness!

until next time x


End file.
